Changes
by Katiesmom07
Summary: Set just after Amber's death. HW Slash. Wilson realizes it was House he wanted all along. I know, it's been written. But hey! I can have my take! There will be several chapters. Enjoy! Now COMPLETE!
1. Greg

Disclaimer: Okay, so I only do this once. It won't be at the top of every chapter; just this one. I do not own House, MD. If I did, he would be in my bed, not in my computer. Hello! But since he is stuck in my computer, I will do with him and his friends what I wish for my little moment in time.

Author's notes: I have been a faithfully CSI: GSR shipper until this point. I have become newly addicted to House now that my Grissom is leaving me for the theater!  Unbeknownst to my little heart, I have found that other brains are on my same wavelength and find that House and Wilson are denying their inner desires to be with each other. So, if you're not a Hilson shipper, STOP HERE! Serious slash. No need for a rating of M yet, but trust me, it will change; always does. ENJOY! And PLEASE read and review. It feeds my soul!!

Need to knows: This is set post Amber's death, but then follows my imagination rather than the regular storyline.

Greg

Explicit words ran thru his mind as he limped toward the persistent rap at his apartment door. With a yank, he opened the door with a gruff, "What?"

He wasn't prepared for Wilson's red, blotchy, tear-stained face and puffy eyes. They hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks, their last meeting ending with Wilson telling his best friend that he never wanted to see him again. House's eyes dropped to floor, immediately uncomfortable with the emotional confrontation that was about to take place, but not overlooking the nearly empty liquor bottle in Wilson's left hand.

The soft words, spoken breathlessly, shocked him. "She's gone, House. Amber's gone."

Blue eyes rose, unsure of what emotion to hold. "I know."

"I blamed you."

He momentarily noticed the past tense of the word, immediately deciding no to mention or dwell on it. "I know." Silent moments ticked by before, "Wanna beer?"

Wilson took the few steps into House's apartment, drunkenly staggering, falling onto the couch, the liquor bottle threatening to fall to the floor. "Soooo, you good with what you have, or do you want that beer?"

Silently, his answer was to tip the bottle to his lips. After a swallow, "You were right."

Wondering whether every statement his friend made in a drunken state of mind was so obvious, he replied yet again, "I know."

With a sarcastic laugh, "Don't you even want to know what I'm talking about?"

A scrunch of his face and a tilt of his head were the only answer given. "I meant about Amber; about why I was dating her. You were right." A swig of the clear liquor provided a short pause. "She was a female version of you."

Inserting his bit of sarcasm, "So now you've realized you can't live without me? Fine, I take you back."

With amazing force, Wilson threw the bottle against the wall, glass shattering with the bottom dregs of the liquid splashing and dripping to the wooden floor. The shout startled both men, "Don't! Don't you dare belittle me! Dammit, House!"

Limping toward the cane that was leaning against the nearby table, "What do want from me, Wilson? I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry!"

On unsteady feet, he stood, his hands moving immediately to his head, his eyes scrunching. Once he gathered himself, "Well stop! Why the hell are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong!" Even in his drunken state, he'd managed to close the distance between them.

Face to face, the yelling match getting louder by the minute, "I'm sorry because you blame me! How the hell am I going to get you to forgive me if I'm not apologetic?"

"I was wrong! Dammit, House! Stand up to me! Tell me I'm ignorant. Tell me I'm an idiot!"

"You are an idiot! You were an idiot for dating her! You were an idiot for blaming me! And you're a complete idiot for choosing her over me!" The silence that followed terrified him. He'd gone too far. Softer now, but without fear entering his voice, "There. Now what?"

But even though he'd asked, House was not prepared for the answer to that question. Without a word, Wilson took the one step needed to close the distance between them, gripped both sides of his unshaven face and fiercely pressed his lips against startled ones. Fingertips dug into flesh, lips crushed, heartbeats pounded.

As silently as it had happened, it also ended. Tears rolled down Wilson's face as his wet eyes met glazed over ocean blues. Their eyes locked, both searching for answers in the opposite pair. Then as quickly as he'd arrived, Wilson turned to leave, with no explanation at all, leaving his crippled friend stunned in silence.

Two weeks passed by before the familiar knock came to his door again. Rolling his eyes, he didn't even bother getting up, but rather yelled for him to come in.

The door opened, Wilson slinked in, "How'd you know it was me?"

With a beer in his hand, open Vicodin bottle on the coffee table, "I didn't order a hooker and you're my only friend."

The was a short silence before, "Are we still friends?"

As if nothing had happened, "You're here, I'm here. Should work." Nothing had changed.

An understanding single nod followed. "I brought beer." He proudly held up a six-pack. House drained the last of the bottle in his hand before reaching for the next.

House watched television just like always, a dramatic, corny soap he'd TiVo'd at some point. He'd yell at the actors, like they could actually hear what he had to say, and give medical diagnoses five minutes into the show that were correct 90% of the time. He was obnoxious, dramatic and loud, all qualities that were somehow attractive to Wilson.

While House was focused on the show, Wilson took the time to let his eyes roam the physique that he never thought he'd desire. Starting at his feet, always dressed in sneakers then moving to his long, forever-clad-in-faded-jeans legs then lingering on the hidden scar on his right thigh that he longed to heal. Just like normal, a rock t-shirt covered his muscular chest and broad shoulders. But it was his face that held Wilson's attention. The need-to-shave look, which normally annoyed him, seemed to somehow not only work for House, but also increased his attractiveness. The soft, yet rough, feel of his older friend's jaw in his hands was a memory that haunted him and pushed him to want more. But it was the ocean blue eyes that captivated him, that held a part of him that he didn't know he'd lost until recently.

What he didn't know was how _long_ he'd been lost. He'd had plenty of time to think since Amber had died. He'd been a best friend with his newest attraction for fifteen years, acquaintances even longer. He'd been married three times, all three marriages failing because he'd always put House first, before every one of his wives. Then Amber. She was as close as he could get. He'd really loved her. But had he loved her for her, or for House? He still couldn't answer that.

A shout shook him from his thoughts. "It's cancer!"

Chuckling, "Why is it always cancer?"

Without taking his eyes from the television, "It's not always cancer."

"You always _think_ it's cancer at some point, though."

There was a short pause before he answered, "If it's cancer, then I need you."

Another pause, as his brain dared him to ask the next question. "Do you need me?"

Still without turning away from his show, "If it's cancer I do."

Wilson rolled his eyes, secretly loving the chase. "Is it cancer?"

Almost as if admitting defeat, "Yes."

With a smile, "Good."

The show ended with no further conversation, and Wilson rose to leave. His desire to kiss the silent man seated on the couch was nearly uncontrollable, but the look on House's face told him to not even think about it. Instead, "Goodnight House."

"'Night Wilson." He watched as his friend walked out the door, then let his head fall to the back onto the sofa. What the hell was he doing?

He was still asking himself that question the next morning when he walked into Cuddy's office. Hobbling on his cane, "Morning, Oh Busty One."

Used to House's antics, "What do you want, House?"

"How are the interviews going for the Oncology spot?"

"You mean Wilson's job? You can say his name."

His eyes to the ground, trying to hide his discomfort, even though it was for a totally different reason than Cuddy thought, "Yeah, that guy. Have you replaced him yet?"

"You have to get past this, House. You guys were…are best friends. He'll get over this. Just give him a little time." A glare from his piercing eyes made her roll her eyes. "No, I haven't replaced him."

"Good. He'll be back. Don't waste your time."

"So you _are_ talking to him. Good for you. How did you get him to come back?"

"I haven't yet. I need time."

"If you're trying to get out of clinic duty, forget it. Get him back on your own time."

"Heartless Bitch."

"Bye House. Let me know when Wilson will be back." She turned back to her paperwork while he limped out, loving that she still had somewhat of an upper hand over him.

It was House who wondered about who had the upper hand when he got a text from Wilson later that afternoon. It simply read, 'dinner?'. He simply text back, 'date?'. He sighed, not knowing if it was of relief or sadness when the response came back, 'no, just dinner'. He chose to keep it simple, 'where?'. The name of a restaurant came back with a time that he simply replied to with, 'k' thinking that this was sounding more like a date every minute.

Later, seated in his office, he was leaning even more toward thinking this might be a date when he was contemplating actually going home to change before going to dinner. When the ducklings filed into his office, he immediately made his decision and got up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

As he passed by, Foreman asked, "Where are you going?"

Over his shoulder, "Sorry, got a date. See you tomorrow." He didn't look back to see their faces, but could imagine the hung jaws and raised eyebrows.

An hour later, he was standing outside the restaurant in a fresh, need-to-be-ironed dress shirt still wondering what the hell he was doing. The voice behind him startled him. "Are we going in, or are we just going to stand outside?"

Silently, House reached for the door, rolling his eyes when Wilson reached to hold it for him. He shuffled in and waited for Wilson to give their reservation then followed as they were led to the table noticing his friend's decision to wait to sit until he was already seated.

House managed to wait until they were alone to ask, "What the hell are we doing here?"

Not looking up from the wine list, "Eating dinner."

"We could have done that at my apartment with pizza and beer. This place is one step below me having to wear a tie and jacket."

"Actually, you were supposed to wear a tie and jacket. I had to drop $100 tip to get you in here." He didn't notice the rise of the eyebrow from across the table. "Nice shirt by the way. You look good in blue."

House stood abruptly and walked away, leaving Wilson slightly stunned at the table. He would come back. He wouldn't just leave. He couldn't. They both needed this. He waited. But after fifteen minutes, House hadn't returned. Wilson dropped a fifty on the table and walked out with a mixture of anger and sadness brewing in his stomach.

He got in his car and drove. He drove past House's apartment three times before actually pulling in. He didn't even bother knocking, storming in prepared to yell and scream. But he froze, the scene in front of him barely understandable. To any other person, completely ridiculous, but to Wilson, nearly romantic.

House, seated on his sofa, dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down, his legs propped on the coffee table, a pizza and two beers near his feet. But the flashlight said it all. The lights were off, radio low and a flashlight, beam up, was placed in the middle of the coffee table.

"Dinner. No tie or jacket required."

Full laughter hit Wilson as he removed his tie and jacket and took a seat, on the middle cushion rather than his usual spot at the far end of the sofa. "What were you going to do if I didn't show?"

Confidently, "Never thought you wouldn't." He leaned forward to pick up both brown bottles and handed one to Wilson. "You want to eat dinner with me, we do it on my terms. I don't dress up."

"You dressed up for Cameron."

"That wasn't a date; it was payment for my side of a deal."

"This wasn't a date; it was dinner."

"I changed my shirt for you. You dropped a hundred bucks to walk into a restaurant with me. I felt bad for walking out on you. _This_ is a date."

"Really?"

"Well, in your mind."

"And in yours?"

"I changed my shirt for you. I lit a candle…in a matter of speaking." A short silence followed. "Can we eat now?"

They ate their pizza in a comfortable silence, Wilson leaning a little closer than necessary to the man beside him, listening to the music that filtered thru the speakers. The words meant nothing, the singer unknown to Wilson. But the sound of the piano in the background triggered his senses. "Will you play for me?"

"Excuse me?"

"The piano. Will you play for me?"

"I don't generally play for other people."

"Good, because I'm not asking you to play for other people." Their eyes met. "I'm asking you to play for me."

With a purse of his lips then downing to last of his beer, he stood and moved to the piano, stopping momentarily to decide what to play. Every note touched Wilson's soul, even though he couldn't explain it. In all the years they'd been friends, he'd never heard House play. It was something he kept private, his own little piece of the world. And now he was sharing it.

Taking a chance, he stood and crossed the room, taking a place behind the musician seated at the piano. With his hands on the shoulders that seemed to bear the world at times, the song came slowly to an end. After the last note, "Thank you."

With a nod, "Welcome."

Their voices were just above a whisper. "I should go."

"Okay."

His hand was on the doorknob before the word came from across the room. "Wilson." He held his breath as he watched House limp across the room, no cane in hand. When they were face to face, "This was a date right?" Wilson swallowed hard and nodded his head. His mind raced when their lips met, just for the briefest, but most perfect, moment. "'Night."

"Goodnight…Greg."


	2. Tears

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for the reviews! It truly pushes me to write more! Glad everyone's enjoying and I hope you're up for a long ride. I have about a billion ideas that could take this into many, many chapters!

Tears

Three days passed before he heard from Wilson and he'd spent all three wondering if this is how women felt when men said they'd call and didn't. But this was different. He could make contact just as easily. But no, he had made the last move. The next one had to be made by Wilson. Or James.

Greg. Only his mother called him Greg. And Stacey. He made hookers call him Doctor. People at work called him House. Patients called him Dr. House. But 'Greg' had been the name uttered by Wilson's lips just before he'd slipped out the apartment door. Wilson's lips, the lips his had brushed in what was supposed to be a goodnight kiss; the most inappropriate goodnight kiss he'd ever taken part in. But he'd done it. And even though he'd had no physical reaction, something in his miserable heart actually felt good, a good he hadn't felt since Stacey.

So here he was, surfing the net in his office for the newest Internet porn, trying to push the thoughts of his best friend from his mind. But the buzz of his cell phone interrupted his search. 'Stop surfing for porn and come home'

He chuckled, knowing that no one knew him better than his best friend.

Twenty minutes later, he found Wilson in his apartment, towel-drying a plate and returning it to the cupboard. "You think you can order me around now?"

"You came didn't you?"

With a tilt of his head and an agreeing shrug, he dropped his bag to the floor. "How'd you get in here anyway?"

"The key. I found it from the last time you let me stay here. I…got tired of waiting outside. You were supposed to be home over an hour ago."

"So, what…you own me now?"

"I don't want to own you. I haven't seen you in three days. I…missed you."

Downing a Vicodin and tossing the empty bottle to the side, "And whose fault is that? I went by your old place, some old lady lives there!"

He tossed the towel on the counter. "You went…to find me?"

"I might have."

"You said an old lady lives there. You did go."

"So?"

"Did you…miss me?"

He toyed with his cane, procrastinating. With a little more anger coming thru than he intended, "You didn't call for three days. Where the hell were you?"

"You did miss me!" After a dagger-like look, "I was taking care of some business."

He didn't mean for the desperation to come across in his tone. "You got a job? Where?"

"Relax. I…accepted a job a couple weeks ago. I had to go and formally apologize…for backing out."

Pretending to be busy shuffling thru cd's, "Why?"

Closing the difference between them, "Because it was in California and I couldn't leave you; not again."

He dared him with his eyes, "Why?"

"Don't Greg. You're not ready for this." His head hung, hating that the younger man was right. Changing the subject, "I rented a movie." Walking toward the kitchen, "You hungry? I brought Chinese. I'll have to reheat it though."

Yelling after him, "Yeah. What movie?"

"Pretty Woman."

"Seriously?"

He came back carrying a beer and a wine glass. "Yeah, well, you get the hooker and I get Richard Gere."

"You're going full fledge with this thing aren't you?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll get Brokeback Mountain next time."

Completely changing the direction of the conversation, "So why'd you leave your apartment?"

He returned with two plates before answering. "Everything reminded me of Amber."

"So where's your new place?"

He pushed play before, "'Extended Stay America' and a storage place."

"Guess that means going to your place is out."

A single chuckle, "Yeah."

"What are you going to do about a job?"

"I don't know yet."

"Why don't you talk to Cuddy, get your old job back?"

"She didn't fill the position yet?"

"Nope."

A few moments of silence passed. "Would that be weird?"

"What?"

"Us working together. Would that be weird?"

"We've worked together for years!"

"But now we're…dating." That even sounded weird to him.

"I'll try to control myself at work!"

"Be real!"

"Okay, okay. We're grown men. Business is business. Personal is personal. We don't have to be like Cameron and Chase and advertise for free."

"You're sure?"

"Yes I'm sure! Stop being an idiot!"

Settling back into the couch, "Yes, Dear."

They watched the movie in silence, Wilson closing the distance between them little by little. House made no move to come closer, but none to move further away either, giving Wilson just the little bit of confidence he needed to place his hand on the jean-clad thigh when they got close enough. There was no jerking away, like he expected, but rather a shift of House's gaze from the television to the hand that had invaded his personal space. Nearly twenty minutes later, a warm hand covered the original, shooting a jolt of electricity up Wilson's arm.

He didn't move for the rest of the movie, afraid that the moment would end, but when the credits rolled, he reached for the remote, trying to be casual. He cleared their plates, washed and put them away, returning to find House still seated on the couch. Moving to stand in front of him, "Hey, you okay?"

From a seated position, he grabbed the hand of the man standing in front of him. Gazing into the palm as if he could read his future, he pressed it to his lips. Ever so slowly, his tongue slipped from his lips, tasting the soap that had been used to wash the dishes. Then, unexpectedly, he yanked, causing Wilson to fall to the couch beside him, never letting go of the hand.

Barely above a whisper, "What are you doing?"

With a smirk, "This is our second date. Second date means second base."

"Are you serious?"

"Considering that I haven't had sex since the night you kissed me, yeah! I need to know whether this does anything for me!"

He yanked his hand back. "What? This is about you getting your rocks off?"

"Shouldn't it be?"

"No! This should be about feelings, a relationship!"

"Every relationship I've ever had has been about sex! Why is this one any different?"

"Because I don't want to be the hooker you pay to get your kicks! I want you to care about me!"

His voice rose as he stood, "You want me to love you! Just say it!"

"Fine! Yes! I want you to love me!"

"I can't love someone I can't have sex with!"

"Why does everything have to be about sex?"

"Because a relationship without sex leads to cheating! And I can't lose you again!" He turned to the wall, his forehead falling against it, realizing he'd shown all his cards.

The warm arms that encircled him nearly weakened his knees. The two palms burned prints into his chest, the beat of the heart he felt against his back was as fast as his own. The whisper of his name sent shivers up his spine. "Greg." He was frozen in place. "Greg, look at me." Turning until his back was against the wall, his face to the floor, he tried to ignore the man that stood dangerously close to him.

"Greg. Please look at me." When he got no response, he took matters into his own hands. The contact of his lips to the bare flesh above the collar of the older man's t-shirt elicited a hiss he'd desired to hear. He nipped at the skin covering the clavicle before covering it with his mouth and heard the clatter of the cane hitting the floor as his hands found their way under the t-shirt and found the smooth skin above the waistband.

Moving his mouth to an earlobe, he sucked it into his mouth before whispering, "I'm _not_ going to leave you." As if to prove his point, he took the one step needed to press their bodies together, making his arousal evident. Capturing his partner's lips with his, he got the response he was looking for. Arms enclosed him, their kiss deepened, tongues clashing.

They parted, both breathless. "Greg?"

"I'm…uh…yeah."

"You…okay?"

"I could…use a cold shower."

After a chaste kiss, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He caught the younger doctor's arms. "Excuse me?"

"What?"

"Where are you going?"

As if it were a stupid question, "Home."

"You live in a hotel!"

"So?"

"You promised you wouldn't leave me!"

"I'm not leaving you. I'm going home."

"This _is_ your home!"

"House! You're being irrational!"

The use of his last name startled him. "Get out." He took a step, forgetting he didn't have his cane and tumbled forward. Wilson was at his side in an instant. "I said get out!"

He pleaded, "Let me help you."

His yell was way above necessary, "Get out!"

Greg House didn't sleep that night. Neither did James Wilson. Greg House took his sleep depravation out on his ducklings and clinic patients. James Wilson took his out on himself. He didn't eat. He didn't drink. He didn't go try to get his job back.

He wanted to call. But knew the line. Business was business. He wouldn't bother House at work. But that only did one thing. It brought him to the apartment door, the door he'd walked out of the previous night with tears threatening his eyes. He had no idea what happened; still didn't. So he sat, leaning against the door, waiting, with tears falling down his cheeks.

Yes, he had a key, but didn't know if he had the right to use it. So he waited. What pissed him off was that he was predictable. So not only was he waiting, but also he was waiting over two hours past the time he normally should have to.

So he cried, tears of sadness, tears of frustration, tears of a broken heart. He cried himself to sleep.


	3. Love

Author's Notes: So in one of my very lovely reviews, I got the suggestion to add more emotions. So, I took the advice, I hope, and did my best. Let me know! In another review, someone asked if I was ending this here. God no! I am VERY long-winded. And I have SEVERAL more ideas for not only this fic, but so many more to come. I hope everyone is enjoying! Please keep reviewing! Next chapter will be up soon!

Love

There was a sneaker pressing against his ribs. His whole body ached. His head was pounding. Memories of crying himself to sleep brought tears back to his eyes and made his heart break further, if that was even a possibility.

"Get up." There mere sound of Greg's voice eased the pain he felt in his chest, even if the words were harsh and emotionless. The door opened, the older man stepping around the younger, still on the floor. Forcing his body to comply, he pushed himself into a standing position, feeling each of the protests coming from his aching muscles. "Why didn't you just come in?"

He struggled to move, hobbling into the apartment. "Because…you kicked me out last night."

Calmly, "What did you care? You'd already left."

"What are you talking about? I was here and you screamed at me to get out."

Still calm, "Shut the door please. I don't need my neighbors hearing our lovers quarrel." He cracked open a beer while he waited for the door to be shut, then continued. "Emotionally, you'd already left me." He didn't try to hide the depression in his voice, determined to make the younger man feel guilty.

"I'm tired. The only sleep I've gotten is what you woke me from. My body aches. My head is pounding. My heart…I don't even know the right word. Please just stop beating around the bush and tell me what the hell I did!" Silence followed. He begged. "Greg, please."

He pointed his cane accusingly. "There!"

Flinging his arms out, "What? There what?"

Walking toward him, "When you're here, you call me Greg."

"So you're mad at me because I don't call you by your last name?"

"No! Don't be an idiot!" His frustration was climbing. "I'm mad because right after we kissed, I asked you to stay and you called me House. I brought up permanency and you retreated!"

"I didn't retreat! I was…scared."

His heart melted. He didn't know whether to be shocked or worried. "Why would _you_ be scared?"

"Because. Because it's taken me over fifteen years to get to this point and I don't want to ruin it by not thinking things thru."

The thought of being worried left his mind. "Bullshit!"

"Dammit, Greg! Don't do this." Panic set. Of course he was scared. Terrified even. But knowing the reason why and admitting it out loud were two different matters.

He dropped his cane against the nearest table and set his beer bottle down before closing the few feet between them. He was close, breathlessly close. "Tell me."

Tears threatened his eyes. The moment of truth was facing him. This was it; there would be no turning back. After a deep breath, "I was scared because…because I…I love you."

The three simple words hit his heart lack a Mack truck. His knees nearly buckled. But he kept steady by the look he found in the eyes that were searching his soul. With tenderness he didn't even know he possessed, he pushed his hands into the thick hair at the back of the younger man's neck and pulled him toward him, pressing their lips together in the gentlest of unions.

He made one step back and took the hand that seemed to hold his heart and guided the man that admittedly loved him into the bedroom. When they reached the threshold, Wilson finally spoke. "Greg?"

Placing his fingers over the other man's lips he spoke just above a whisper, tenderly stating simple facts he knew to be true. "Shh. _This _is your home. You love me. You want to be here. It's midnight. We're tired. Let's go to bed. We'll talk more in the morning."

Silently, they both stripped down to their boxers and climbed into bed in unsure motions. Just as they laid down, "Oh, two more things. One, I don't cuddle…because of my leg. Two…I love you too James." There. He'd said it. Of course it was true, obviously. Part of him knew a long time ago. By now the other part, the stubborn part, was letting him say it out loud. With that one phrase, his heart lightened. Everything was going to be okay now.

Their hands met on the mattress between them moments before they drifted to sleep, both finding peaceful dreams, content to finally be happy in life.

The buzz of a cell phone woke them from their slumber hours later, hands still entwined as if they'd just fallen asleep.

Glancing at the caller ID, he pushed the sleep from his voice before answering. "Hello?"

Cuddy's voice made him pull the phone from his ear, "Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be in the clinic two hours ago!"

"Good morning to you, too. I'm fine by the way."

Almost believing he might be hurt, "Did something happen? Are you okay?"

"You're so gullible! I'm fine! I had a meeting with Wilson this morning. I talked him into taking his job back. We're on our way in now."

"Well…don't think you're getting out of these clinic hours!"

"Add them to my tab." He flipped his phone shut, blocking the annoying voice on the other end of the line. "You awake?"

"Long enough to hear you lie to Cuddy."

"So I didn't talk you into taking your old job back?"

He rolled over, careful of his partner's leg, and gazed into still hazy blue eyes. "I was talking about us being on our way in now."

"Did you have other plans?"

"I _did_. I guess they'll wait. I need a shower and I don't have any clothes here."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Did I mention that I love you even though you point out all my faults?"

"Did I mention we need to get to work before the wicked witch of Plainsboro casts more clinic hours on me?'

With a laugh, he rolled and got out of bed, heading right for the bathroom saying over his shoulder, "Give me five minutes and I'll need something to wear to the hotel."

Half an hour later, Wilson pulled his car into his old spot in the lot of PPTH, feeling completely at home. He was just about to get out of the car when he felt the grip on his arm. His eyes met blue eyes, now filled with love and a bit of hesitance. "You okay, Greg?"

His first name, uttered as though it were common to come from the young doctor's lips, brought a sense of love and acceptance to his own heart that he couldn't explain. There were so many things he couldn't explain when it came to his newfound love. Part of it terrified him. Part of it calmed him. This, this moment, the love he found in the pair of nearly chocolate eyes and the tenderness in the voice that could completely turned his world around, this comforted him. "I am now."

"Good. Now let's go. I don't want you working overtime in the clinic."

Both men laughed as they walked into the building, thoughts of getting back to normal pushing any possible tensions away. They parted in the lobby, Wilson heading to Cuddy's office and House to his own.

His ducklings were already gathered around the table, symptoms on the whiteboard. Flipping the switch in his mind into work mode, he meandered into his personal office and yelled over his shoulder, "Who wrote on my board?"

Foreman, always one to stand up to his boss, replied, "Some of us got to work on time today and decided we should try to diagnose our patient."

Coming back thru the open door, "I was busy. And you didn't answer my question."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters because I asked. Duh!"

Kutner finally spoke up, "Me, okay? Can we get on with our diagnosis now?"

Before he could answer, Thirteen butted in, "Are you smiling?"

Was he smiling? Seriously? He really had no idea. Going with sarcasm, which always seemed to work for him, "How does that relate to our patient?"

"Doesn't. But it's an interesting fact."

Trying to ignore her, "Fantastic. Now someone fill me in."

Foreman started spouting off medical facts and conditions then morphed into possible diagnoses, all the while, Thirteen never took her eyes off her boss.

Once Foreman finished, House started giving orders. Pointing first to Foreman, "You, MRI." Then to Taub, "You, draw blood and get urine." To Kutner, "You go help the dark one with the MRI." Finally Thirteen, "And you, stop staring. You're starting to drool. Then, since you're so good at it, go pry into the sick guy's personal life." No one moved. "Go!" Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone finally decided to follow orders and he moved into his office wondering just what the hell happy people did while they were at work.

He didn't have much time to think before a familiar silhouette appeared at his door. "You all set?"

"Start tomorrow."

"Good. Come 'ere."

Tentatively, he took the few steps toward the desk, leaning his hip against the edge. "I thought we weren't going to do this here?"

"We're not doing anything."

In hushed tones, "You're practically undressing me with your eyes."

He looked around, confirming his next statement. "There's no one here."

"Good excuse."

"Shut up."

"Yes, Dear." The electricity between them was undeniable, and both men wondered how they'd ignored it this long.

"You picking me up tonight?" '_Please.'_

"You think I'd make you walk home?" _'I never would.'_

'_Of course not.'_ "No. I was just confirming."

'_There's really no need.' _"Good. I'll be here at six."

"What are you gonna do today?"

Faking offense, "Are you already checking up on me?"

"No. I was just going to suggest checking out of your hotel."

"You want me to move in with you?"

"Don't act so shocked! You live in a hotel! How hard would it be to move back out?"

"Are we really having this conversation at work?"

"Technically, you're not working. Really, my boyfriend came to visit _me_ at work." And somehow those words didn't seem strange to him.

With a gleam in his eyes, "Didn't know we were playing that game."

Warning, "Wilson!"

Just above a whisper, "Greg." His lips met his partner's in a brief and gentle flutter. It originally was meant to tease, but quickly turned into more. Their lips parted but came back together, tenderly seeking the love of the other pair, neither man caring who might walk in. When the younger doctor pulled back with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face, "Just visiting my boyfriend, right?"

"Slut."

"You love it."

Sheepishly, "Yeah."

Standing, "See you at six."

"Okay."

Wilson headed for the door, but before stepping out, he looked around and turned back. "Love you."

"Love you too, James."

Hours later, nearing time to head home, Cuddy shouted his name as he tried to duck out of the clinic. Pretending to ignore her, he headed to the elevator and pressed the up button.

Before the doors opened, she was tugging at his arm. "There are files with case notes on my desk."

Staring at the lighted numbers rather than turning toward her, "Happy for you."

"They're yours! Did you actually review your patients' charts and write up your notes?"

"Well it was either that or make up some clinic hours. I figured that was the lesser of two evils."

"You didn't have a soap to watch or a coma patient to visit?"

The elevator doors opened and he stepped in, only to be followed by his boss. "Damn! I knew I forgot something!" After a stern look, "What? Are you actually complaining because I'm doing my job?"

"No…no. I'm just trying to figure out if you'll continue to do your job now that Wilson's back, or you'll morph back into being an ass."

With an animated expression, "I'd go with the second choice."

"Figured."

He cell phone buzzed. After flipping it open, he read 'Don't be mad. I'm sending a taxi to pick you up at six. Trust me. Love you.' Snapping it shut just as the doors whooshed open, he turned to Cuddy saying, "Sorry. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a patient who needs me." Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. He did have a patient.


	4. Need

Author's notes: Okay, this chapter is a little mushy. Who am I kidding? It's a LOT mushy!! Mind the rating change! My filter only lasts just so long. More to come after this, promise! Enjoy!

Need

He climbed out of the cab after the driver refused further payment saying that it was made ahead of time and meandered up to his own apartment door, mixed feelings of anxiety and excitement brewing in his soul. He had been told not to be mad, a feeling that had never crossed his mind. As soon as he'd gotten the message, he'd been overcome with an anticipation he'd never felt before.

Ideas ran thru his mind, wondering just what his newfound partner had up his sleeve. James had a reason for everything. There was a method to his madness. Greg reached for the doorknob, his hand shaking, and ended his wait.

Inside he found dim lighting and flickering candles. Soft music flowed thru his speakers and an intoxicating scent floated from the kitchen. Leaning against a bookcase, two wine glasses in hand, clad in faded jeans and an untucked dress shirt only buttoned halfway up his chest was the one person in his life that he needed more than anything else.

"I wanted to cook dinner for you and I thought that this might be the last time I had a chance to surprise you for a while. No tie or jacket required."

After dropping his bag to the floor, he took the glass being handed to him and took a sip. "This is beer."

"I knew if I handed you a glass of wine you wouldn't drink it. I just thought the glass made it a little more…romantic."

Leaning his cane against the wall, he cupped the younger man's cheek in his free hand. "My Jimmy. Hopeless romantic."

With a smile, "What happened to James?"

"Exploring my options." He leaned in and pressed his lips to the pair his heart desired every minute of the day. Electricity shot thru his body with the mere contact of their lips; electricity that awoke senses deep within him and terrified him all in the same moment. He'd never needed anyone. He'd loved Stacey, no doubt. But this was different. This was a much deeper love that his heart needed in order to continue to beat.

"Hungry?"

Sparks shot thru his eyes, "Yeah."

With a chuckle, James led Greg to the table and served up two plates of baked chicken mac and cheese. "My favorite. Is there anything you don't remember?"

"Probably."

"I'm starting to doubt that."

Moments of silence passed before James spoke again, his heart pounding in his chest like a locomotive. "I remember the moment I fell in love with you." Their eyes met over the flicker of the candle between them, locked in love. As his heart slowed to a manageable rhythm, "It was after Stacey. You were so hurt; and it killed me. I just wanted to gather you into my arms and convince you that everything would be okay. All that hurt. I just wanted to make it disappear and show you that life could be happy again."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was afraid you'd sock me."

"Good chance I would have. What changed?"

"I realized that I was willing to give up everything for you. There's nothing I wouldn't risk. I've already done it. All three of my marriages, my job, my life, Amber…I risked it all. And even though at the time I may not have thought so, I know now that I didn't care what I lost as long as I had you in the end."

"Why did you leave me?"

Honesty poured from his mouth, unable to hold it back. "Because I was scared. I thought it would be easier to walk away myself than to have you push me away."

"What happened?"

"I couldn't do it. I loved you too much. I was miserable. It made me realize that it didn't matter _how_ I lost you, it was going to hurt just as much. So I thought I might as well give it a chance."

"What would you have done if I turned you away?"

There was a long silence before he dared answer. Part of him still wondered what he would have done. Of course his initial reaction was that he would survive; maybe not well, but he would forge thru if he completely started over. But in the back of his mind he wondered if he would have been strong enough. "I…I don't know. I think I would've…I don't know."

"And here I was worried you'd leave me."

"It's not gonna happen, Greg."

"So I'm stuck with you for the rest of my life?"

"At least the rest of mine."

His heart skipped a beat, the intimacy between them forming a lump in his throat. His voice deepening to a husky murmur, "I can live with that." They finished their meal in a comfortable silence, James clearing their plates and replacing them with slices of banana cream pie. "This really does terrify me. I have no secrets from you."

"I don't have any from you either. But that doesn't terrify me. I think it makes us perfect. You know all my faults and flaws and I know all of yours; and we're still here."

"But I've changed. I feel myself changing."

"How?"

"I did case notes for my patients' files today and I contemplated making up some of my clinic hours."

"Seriously?"

His eyes roaming anywhere but to the pair across the table, "Being happy changes a person."

"I make you…happy?"

His eyes fell to the table. "Yeah." He heard the scrape of the chair against the floor and the footsteps walking toward him then felt the tug, pulling him to his feet.

"That is quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." Their lips met, passion soaring. Hands groped, searching for any exposed skin. James pushed his hands into the short salt and pepper hair at the back of Greg's neck, pulling him deeper into their kiss. His tongue pushed its way thru lips and passed teeth, finding its destination. The muffled groan from Greg's throat caused James to rip his lips from his partner's. "I need you."

Quick breaths came from deep within his chest. "I've never done this."

Eyes filled with passion, heart beating rapidly, "It's okay. Neither have I."

They walked hand in hand into the bedroom, Greg stopping when he saw the suitcases lined along the wall. "You moved in."

Without moving, "Of course I did. I love you. I want to be here. Remember?"

With one gentle yank, he pulled James into his arms. "I remember." Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned each button of the shirt that separated him from bare skin. In one movement, he pushed the shirt off broad shoulders and lowered his lips to kiss the newly exposed chest. Fumbling with the button and zipper of jeans, his lips and tongue never left the body that fueled his every desire. When he finally released the waistband, his partner could wait no longer.

James tugged the t-shirt over Greg's head, desperate for skin-to-skin contact. He bit gently at first at the older man's collarbone then more roughly as he moved to his chest. Teeth meeting nipples elicited a hiss and moan from deep within Greg's throat that made James' erection pulse against his loosened jeans begging for release.

Suddenly more needy, each movement became urgent and jerky. Clothes were quickly yanked off before they fell onto the bed, hands groping, pulling at hair, digging into sensitive skin. Lips and tongues clashed, with each other and any untouched flesh they could find. Hips jerked, pressing erections together, heightening their desires and needs for release.

When James wrapped his hand around his partner's swollen erection, Greg hissed words of passion. "Christ! James!"

Between panting breaths, "Greg! I need you."

His mind raced. The lack of blood in his brain made him dizzy, unable to think any rational thought. He only knew that his desire had built to a point of explosion and the only person who could bring him to complete bliss was the man who was laying naked half on top of him. With the pain in his right leg not even noticeable, he flipped their entwined bodies over and half straddled the man underneath him. Pinning both of his lover's hands to the mattress with each of his own, he created a rhythm that was quickly sending him to the brink of orgasm.

Resting dangerously on the edge of explosion, he spoke on word. "James?"

The response was in a near shout, "Greg!"

He quickened their pace, feeling the heat of his lover's release just before his own. His body fiercely shook as moans and gasps extended their pleasure with each thrust of his hips. Completely spent, he collapsed onto his partner, the sticky reminder of their love pressed between their depleted bodies.

Gently freeing his hands, James wrapped his arms around his lover, one hand pressed flat against his back, the other pushed into the hair at the nape of his neck. A peace came over him as his breathing evened, realizing that this moment was one he'd been waiting for, for way too long. "I love you so much." Greg made an attempt to move, but James just tightened his grip. "No. Just…I know you don't like to cuddle…just give me a few minutes."

Snuggling closer, "It's okay, Evan."

"Evan?"

Sleep entering his voice, "Exploring my options."

A single chuckle, "Right." A moment later, his fingers running thru Greg's hair, "I like James."

"I love James."

"Good, because James loves you. More than you'll ever know." He closed his eyes and listened to the older man's breathing even out as he fell into a deep sleep, silently hoping to hear the same thing again more times than he could count.

He had finally entered the life he'd dreamt and fantasized about for years, and now he wasn't afraid of losing it any longer. Life was perfect. In this moment, with the rest of the world revolving around them and not mattering at all, they had found bliss together.

Over an hour later, Greg stirred on his chest. Not having fallen asleep himself, but rather having enjoyed holding his lover in his arms, he whispered, "Hey."

Gently rolling to his left side, but still keeping contact between their bodies, "Hey. How long have I been out?"

"About an hour."

"You sleep?"

"No. No, I was enjoying."

With a sly grin, "Me too."

"I thought you said you don't like to cuddle."

"I did say that."

"But?"

"But…with you, everything is different." He thought about his words as they slipped easily from his mouth and realized what he was admitting. Silently, he waited for James to push him, to give more insight, but the plea never came. Ironically, it made him want to share even more. "I've never loved anyone like I love you. The only other person I've ever been in love with was Stacey and it wasn't like this." He absentmindedly traced circles along the other man's chest, wondering how much his heart would let him confess. "I need you."

His breath caught in his throat, his heart stopped momentarily. "I need you too."


	5. The Date

Author's Notes: Just thought I'd give this to all of my fabulously lovely readers as a little Thanksgiving treat! Happy reading and feed my soul with reviews!

The Date

House sat alone in his office having sent his fellows off to check on the patient, who was progressing to the point of discharge later that afternoon, and closed his eyes to remember. Last night, he and James had taken a shower together, a first for him, but definitely not a last. He could still feel the strong hands roaming his soapy body, so sensual, making his skin tingle. Every moment of the night, they'd spent close to each other, as if they'd been together for years yet still couldn't get enough of each other. They'd done the dishes together, eaten a slice of pie curled up on the couch while watching a show neither man paid any attention to and had gone to bed, spooning, needing as much contact as possible.

They'd woken this morning, James still wrapped in his arms, neither one wanting to leave their bed. After protest, they'd gotten up to have a simple breakfast James had insisted on making and had kissed before leaving the apartment like they were parting for days rather than just for the ride to work.

He would never tire of kissing his lover. His lips were so soft and perfect. They molded to his own like they were made for each other, parted on command, giving in to the deepening desire. When their tongues met, dancing with each other to their own rhythm, tasting and touching, it created a reaction deep in his soul.

He was lost in the memory of James' tongue flicking over his lips, gently teasing, when the sound of a clearing throat interrupted him. He opened on eye and smiled, finding James standing in front of him. "Hey."

Laughing, "You know, you suck at the whole separating work from personal thing."

Opening both eyes, acting as though he had no idea what the other man was talking about, "What?"

"What were you just thinking about?"

Finding no reason to hide, "Kissing you."

"I rest my case."

"It's not like I would have told anyone else."

In a disbelieving tone, "Yeah." Shaking his head. "Anyway. We have a problem."

With concern, he stood and walked toward the younger doctor, "What's wrong?"

"I just came from Human Resources. I had to update my files since I technically resigned and came back, even though I'm being reinstated."

"Get to the point."

Running a nervous hand over his face, "They want an address."

His heart slowed, his concern replaced with amusement. "So?"

"I live with you. I gave them my PO Box, but they want a physical address."

"Again…so?"

"You want me to give them your address?"

"We're talking about an HR flunky here. Do you really think she'll search out everyone else's files to see if it matches? Just give them the damn address."

Blowing out a sigh of relief, "Glad you said that. You know how I suck at lying."

"You already gave the address, didn't you?"

A blush rose to his cheeks, "What was I supposed to do?"

"You are _such_ an idiot." He let a moment pass, then, "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

A wide smile formed on his face, "I told you that you sucked at this."

His face scrunched, "I really do, don't I?"

He turned and walked away saying over his shoulder, "Yeah, you really do."

Slightly pissed that the lab coat was hindering his view as he watched Wilson walk away, he shook himself back into reality and headed to the clinic. He'd spent several hours there before Cuddy stopped him in between patients. "My office."

He was just as shocked as she by his reply, "You'll have to give me a few minutes. I'm waiting on some test results for room 2 and I have one more patient to see." He walked away, cane in one hand, file in another and disappeared into a room, leaving Cuddy frozen in place.

What the hell was going on? Breaking her trance, she headed to her office, determined to take advantage of whatever had gotten into her misanthropic diagnostician. Nearly a half hour later, House ambled into her office and plopped into the chair across from her. "How many hours did you spend in the clinic today?"

Tilting his head, squinting his eyes, "Six, maybe?"

Matter-of-factly, "Seven."

Tapping his cane on the floor, "If you knew, then why'd you ask?"

"What the hell is up with you?"

Anger brewing, "Why are you on my case about actually doing my job?"

"I'm not. I just…are you doing this to get out of the dinner tomorrow night?"

Shit, he'd forgotten about the damn dinner. Pretending like he had no idea what his boss was talking about, "What dinner?"

"House! I told you about this months ago! And I've reminded you since! You _are_ coming."

"No, I'm not."

Sternly, "Yes, you are. And find a date. Wilson and I will pick you up at seven."

His ears perked, "Wilson?"

She new that would reel him in; he might not want to go to the dinner but to spend time with his best friend he would come. He had been devastated for the weeks Wilson wouldn't talk to him. Other than herself, Wilson was House's only true friend; she wasn't even sure whether House considered her a friend. Honestly, she wasn't sure she cared.

"Yes, Wilson has agreed to accompany me. I asked him earlier today. So don't be a third wheel. Find a date. Black tie. If she's a hooker, buy her a dress and make sure she can talk. This is for $100,000 donation from a patient's family; a patient you saved! They want to meet you, to thank you…again."

A roll of his eyes followed. He might as well agree. Wilson would make him go anyway. "Fine." He hobbled out the way he'd come, wondering just who the hell he'd get to go to the lousy dinner with him. In the past, Cameron would have been the easy out. But now that she had Chase, her focus had moved from trying to fix House's sorry ass to getting laid on more than a daily basis.

He'd always gone to these things alone in the past. Why did it have to change this time? Damn Wilson! Why couldn't he have just said no, made up some excuse? He chuckled. Because Wilson didn't lie, couldn't even if he tried; the exception to House's ultimate rule that _everyone_ lies.

He roughly pushed open the glass door to his office, finding his team gathered. Then suddenly it hit him. "Thirteen, can I see you in my office?" To the rest of his ducklings, "You can go. Have a nice weekend." Without argument, the men disappeared as Thirteen followed him into his office with her arms crossed over her chest. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?"

Not willing to make anything easy for him, "Why is that important?"

"There's a dinner tomorrow night. A donation to the hospital because I saved someone's life and the family is overly grateful."

"So?"

"So, I need a date." She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, we'd be going with Wilson and Cuddy, so you could pretend you're going with her if that makes you feel better."

"Wow. This is really hard for you."

"Shut up." A few silent moments passed. "So, you in?"

"Well, I don't have any plans, and I would love to see Cuddy in a tight-fit slinky dress, so…sure."

"Great. We'll pick you up a little after seven. Black tie."

"Do I have to wear anything else?"

For the first time in his life, he admitted to himself that really couldn't care less. But out loud, "Not as far as I'm concerned. But Cuddy might be pretty pissed if you show more cleavage than her."

With a roll of her eyes, she left, saying over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow."

He watched her go, not at all turned on by the shake of her ass or the giggle that drifted behind her. Content with his decision, convinced that Thirteen would be the perfect distraction for Cuddy to leave him to spend more time with the man he actually wanted to spend time with, he left his office. Now he was ready to go home and give said man a hard time for not even warning him about the upcoming double date.

Twenty minutes later, acting as if nothing had happened, he meandered into the kitchen behind James, who was already busy cooking dinner. God, he could get used to this. Sweetly placing a kiss at the back of his partner's neck, "What's for dinner?"

His mind raced. Was there a possibility that Cuddy hadn't told him about the dinner? Swallowing hard, "Spaghetti. Hungry?"

Greg placed one hand on either side of James, trapping him between the heat from the stove and the warmth of his body. "Why are you nervous? Is something wrong with the spaghetti, or could it be that you're nervous about telling me about your date tomorrow night?"

He turned and began to nervously ramble, "I'm sorry, Greg. What was I supposed to do? It's not like I could tell her that I-" He was cut off by his lover's lips on his. "So you're not mad?"

"Mad that I have to spend our first Saturday night together at some stupid charity event? Yes. Mad because you didn't come warn me first? Yes. Mad because I get to see your sexy ass all dolled up? No. And mad at you? Definitely not."

Thinking that he was off the hook, he wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and leaned in for a kiss, only to be stopped by, "But…I do think you owe me a little something…ya know, for agreeing to go out on a date with someone else." James raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the sexy tone of Greg's voice. "I say that you take me into our bedroom and have your way with me."

Pretending that it mattered, even though both men knew there wasn't the slightest chance of it, "But I made spaghetti."

Already aroused and not caring one bit whether he'd made a complete Thanksgiving dinner, "And I can order a mean pizza." Turning, he walked toward the bedroom, leaving James to tend to fire hazards, dropping his clothes to the floor as he went. He was lying naked on their bed fully aroused when James walked in a mere few moments later.

All of his shyness disappearing, James slowly undressed, his eyes never leaving the swirling blue orbs filled with passion that could make him cum just by looking at him. With each piece of clothing, the burning in the pit of his stomach became more insistent for some form of contact. He stood naked in front of his lover, completely vulnerable, yet undeniably comfortable.

Breaking their eye contact, he let his eyes stroll down Greg's naked body, admiring his firm chest then the thin line of hair that led him to his twitching erection then to the scar on his right leg. He couldn't explain it, but something drove him to begin by placing his lips on the one imperfect spot on the body that drove him to insane peaks of pleasure.

He started there, first with lips then tongue, enjoying every inch of flesh from his leg, then up his hip, stomach and chest then finally his neck and ending poised above his lips. "You are so damn gorgeous." Greg's mouth opened to his, tongues seeking each other out, the older man's stubble scraping against the younger's sensitive skin. Smooth bare chests pressed together, Greg wrapped his strong arms around James, one hand drifting down to grab his ass.

James moaned into his lover's mouth, his body needing more. But it was Greg who spoke his desires out loud, "I want you."

Breathless, "You've got me."

His eyes were swirling with passion, a storm brewing within the ocean blues. "No. I mean…I want you."

"But we've…"

"Shh. I want to feel you inside me."

"I've never done this before."

"I…want…you. Make love to me, James." With hesitant moves, Greg pushed his lover away just enough to flip himself over. "KY and condoms…in the drawer of the nightstand." He held his breath while he waited, for the pain or the pleasure he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed this. It was about connection…and trust. It was about desire and need. It was about love. He exhaled with a groan as he felt one lubricated finger push into him, slowly moving in and out. His desire was heightening just as he felt another finger, stretching him, creating only the slightest pain. He was careful to not let the yell escape him, knowing he wanted more. When he felt the fingers slip away, James's hard erection pressed against him, he growled, "Take me."

With gentle, short thrusts, James pressed into his lover, holding firmly to his hips, watching as Greg's hands twisted into the pillows and sheets. With each push, he felt himself lose his self-control little by little. "Tell me. Tell me you still want this."

"I want you. Just do it." With one final thrust, his lover was buried deep inside him, his fingers digging into bony hips. Greg remained still, waiting for the pain to sink in and for the pleasure to overcome. It wasn't unbearable, nothing like he'd imagined, and nothing close to the pain he'd felt in his leg. The outcome would be worth the moment of discomfort.

Just as his body was easing, he felt James' hand encircle his arousal, stroking the pain from his mind. In response, he thrust his hips back, silently informing his partner that he was ready for more.

Hands back on his lover's hips, in slow, rhythmic thrusts, James pushed in and out, "You feel so damn good." His pace quickened, his breathing becoming deep and heavy. "God, Greg. It's so tight."

In between thrusts, Greg managed one word, "Yes!" His mind was trying to comprehend the pleasure that was building rapidly, leaving him light-headed and spinning with desire. Finding the rhythm with his partner, he quickened and deepened each thrust. He felt the release of his lover's orgasm just before he heard the shout of his name and let himself give in to the pleasure, exploding with fierce jolts, his body in near convulsions.

Neither man caring about the meal they'd missed, they decided instead to shower, fueled by the love from the other.


	6. The Dance

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for all the reviews. You're all FABULOUS!!! Enjoy…more to come!

The Dance

The next day, Greg was leaning against the doorframe of the master bath watching James shave, having already tired of being in his ridiculous tuxedo. "And you wonder why I don't shave every day! Can you imagine me having that much patience?"

Never taking his eyes from the mirror, "I don't wonder. I've actually come to like your unshaven look. Although my skin does protest."

"Do you want me to shave?"

"Would you if I asked?"

"Probably not."

"Didn't think so." A few more strokes then, "I don't want you to change for me. I want you to change for you. Besides, I love you just the way you are."

"How quaint."

After splashing on aftershave, "Why are you in such a mood?"

"I'm always in a mood."

"Not when we're home, you're not."

He paused, contemplating the truth of those words. Then he used them to his advantage, "Right. And that's why I'm in a mood. We have to leave our home to go to some pointless dinner where I have to not only not spend time with you, but also pretend like I don't want to strip off all your clothes and take advantage of you. It sucks!"

James wrapped his arms around Greg's waist. "It's only one night, and it's not pointless. You saved their daughter's life. They're grateful and we need these donations."

"_We_ don't need donations. _We_ need to stay home…in bed."

Knowing just how to get to his partner, "I'll tell you what. If you're good tonight, we can spend the whole day in bed tomorrow."

"Now _that_ is the best bride I've ever gotten!"

Later, even though he was determined to win his prize, Greg was miserable seated at the overly expensive, poorly tasting meal. Although he'd planned to place himself at the table beside James, his plan had gone awry when Thirteen squeezed in to claim her place by Cuddy, leaving the two women seated between the two men. His annoyance only grew every time James stood and lead Cuddy to the dance floor, leaving him seated with his 'date' at the almost empty table.

It wasn't until both women disappeared to the bathroom that James stole the seat beside Greg. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"Bad leg…exaggerated limp…cane. Pick a reason."

"Those aren't reasons; they're excuses. You could dance if you wanted to."

"Fine. Then that's my _reason_; I don't want to."

"Why not?"

He leaned closer; hissing just above a whisper, "Listen. I'm here. I'm behaving. I don't want to dance with Thirteen. She's only here because Cuddy made me bring a date. _She'd_ rather dance with Cuddy. If I was going to dance, I'd do it with you."

"Fine. When we get home, we'll dance."

Feeling frisky, "Why not here? Are you ashamed of me?"

A little shaken, he stuttered, "Of, of course n-not. I th-thought we agreed t-to not be public knowledge."

Acting shocked, "Really? 'Cause I don't remember agreeing to that."

His face was becoming flush, "Greg, let's talk about this later."

"Why can't we talk about it now, _James_?"

"Look, you're mad about being here tonight. I get it. I'm sorry I made you come. But we're here. Let's just get thru the night, okay?"

A moment later, the women returned, interrupting their conversation. It was Cuddy who recognized the discomfort. "Everything okay?"

Louder then necessary, House answered, "Everything's fine!" He lowered his voice slightly. "Wilson just misses me and wants to sit next to me. You don't mind, do you Thirteen?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes and Thirteen shrugged, both taking the two available chairs. Thirteen, who had been quiet most of the night, finally became vocal, "So Dr. Wilson, is it nice to be back to work?"

"Working was never an issue for me. I knew I could find a job. It was feeling at home that worried me."

A bit sarcastically, House interjected, "So, is it nice being _home_?"

Deciding two could play at House's game, "Yes. I've never felt more at home than I do now."

Completely ignorant to what was going on, Cuddy said, "Well, we're happy to have you back where you belong."

A voice from the front of the room stopped them from further conversation. "Excuse me, everyone." Once the room settled, "Thank you all for coming." The father of the patient House had saved morphed into a speech about how blessed he was and how much he appreciated House for saving his daughter. That was followed by the presentation of the donation check to Cuddy. It was the next request, though, that shocked everyone. When the father requested that House make a speech, the whole room was quiet.

Wilson finally jabbed House in the ribs, shaking him from his trance. Limping up to the front, House took the microphone from the father.

During his silence, Wilson's heart was beating rapidly, worried about what House would say. The look on Cuddy's face was that of pure horror. Wilson watched as she reached out to touch House's arm, hoping to convey her plea for him to behave thru some form of osmosis.

When he finally spoke, his words were eloquent. "We're all here tonight because I came to work and did my job. People don't need parties or donations made in their honor because they do their job. But I understand that tonight is also because of love and that love makes a person realize what's really important. It speaks volumes that these people are willing to admit in front of all of these people that they will make a $100,000 sacrifice because they can continue to love their daughter. So for that, thank _you._"

Applause followed, from everyone in the room except Wilson. To everyone else, the speech had been meaningful, polite even. But Wilson heard the undertones that were directed at him. The parents were willing to make the sacrifice of $100,000 for the love of their daughter, but he wasn't willing to make the sacrifice of his pride to dance with his boyfriend in front of their colleagues.

He needed air. Once outside, he paced back and forth several times, trying to rationalize in his brain. Was this just some kind of selfish trick in House's mind, pushing Wilson to make a fool of himself? Was this Greg pleading with James to take the next step? Start simpler. Was this House or was this Greg? His head was pounding. Better question. Why should it matter if it's House or Greg? Better yet. Aren't Greg and House the same person?

He blew out a breath and walked quickly to the bathroom. After he splashed water on his face, he leaned over the sink, a hand at each side, and let the water drip down the drain.

As the applause ended, House had made his way back to the table, stopped many times by random people wanting to sake his hand. Cuddy finally came to his rescue. "Dr. House, would you care to dance?"

His first response was to tell her to go to hell, but it was either dance or be assaulted by the crowd of people surrounding him. Deciding she was the lesser of two evils, he followed her to the dance floor.

Swaying ever so slightly to the music, "That was a beautiful speech, House. I didn't know you had it in you."

Inside he was laughing. He'd nearly won his bet and he'd made his point to Wilson all in one night. Deciding to admit one truth, "Wilson made a bet with me; said I couldn't behave for the whole night."

"I knew it had to be something. How much?"

"How much what?"

"Money? How much money did you bet?"

Before he could answer, "Excuse me, can I cut in?"

House stepped back replying, "She's your date. Be my guest."

Wilson swallowed, hard. "No. No, I meant…with you."

Greg raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

A blush rose to James' cheeks, but he was determined not to stutter. All the while, Cuddy stood frozen still, not knowing whether to laugh or have a heart attack. After a deep breath, James finally spoke. "I get it. Your speech; I get it. You win. Better yet, you're right." The three of them stood stark still, all for different reasons until James asked, "Are you gonna dance with me, or what?"

With a smirk, "No. The fact that you're willing is enough for me. Well, that and the fact that we have thoroughly traumatized our boss. Let's just get the hell outta here." James breathed a sigh of relief before Greg turned to Cuddy, "You don't mind catching a cab, right? My boyfriend and I are going to head home…together."

They didn't wait for a response, but just walked out. Not hand in hand, not exploiting their relationship, just leaving.

They were halfway home before Greg spoke. "Thanks."

Needing no explanation, "Welcome."

"What would have done if I'd taken you up on it?"

"I would have danced with you."

"No hesitation. Wow, you've got it bad, James."

"And just what would you have done had I made a scene?"

"I would have danced with you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because our relationship isn't anyone else's business."

With a slight whine, "Then why'd you make such a big deal about it?"

"Because you being ashamed and it not being anyone else's business are completely different."

"So it was about principle?"

"Yep."

"Nice." A few moments passed before, "What are we going to do about Cuddy?"

"Nothing. It's none of her business who is dating who. It's not against hospital policy. If she starts yapping her trap, I'm sure I can come up with some sort of threat to make her shut up." A few minutes later, when James pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store, "What the hell are we doing here?"

"We're shopping. Unless you'd rather go home and have to come back out?" After he got no reply. "We're going to be spending all day tomorrow in bed. I'm assuming we'll get hungry at some point and that you'll probably drag this whole thing into Sunday and then Monday morning. We need to shop."

James was pushing the cart, Greg tossing whatever he wanted in it. James didn't care as long as they were together. He couldn't help it. Greg started grumbling halfway down the cereal isle, "We look ridiculous in these tuxedos in this store."

"Since when do you care what other people think?"

"I don't. I was just stating a fact."

A half hour later they walked up to the front door of their apartment to find Cuddy leaning against the wall. Adopting Greg's sarcastic tone, James asked, "Dr. Cuddy, to what do we owe this pleasure."

"Shut up, Wilson, and let me in." She followed them into the apartment, all but slamming the door behind her. As they put the groceries away, she stood in the middle of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest, her shoe tapping the floor. After a few minutes of them ignoring her, "Hello! Is anyone going to tell me anything?"

Calmly, James replied, "What would you like to know?"

"Everything."

"Well, we're in love. We live here together." Then, as if it had suddenly hit him, he turned to Greg, "Why _do_ we live here?"

"Because you lived at a hotel."

"No, I mean, why don't we get a new place?"

"Because I like _this_ place. All our memories are here."

For a split second, he actually believed his lover. Then he came back to reality. "That is such bullshit!"

Cuddy pulled them from their mini argument, "Excuse me!"

They both turned in unison, "What?"

"What the hell happened here?"

Greg handed Wilson the ice cream to put in the freezer asking, "Do you think if we ignore her, she'll go away?"

"I'm not going anywhere!"

Completely ignoring her, James replied, "It could work. Maybe."

They finished putting their groceries away before Greg hissed, "She's still here."

"You two can ignore me all you want, I am _not _leaving until you talk to me."

Still pretending she wasn't there, Greg said to James, "Okay, my idea didn't work. What's yours?"

James paused a moment before, "Pretty sure if we started making out, she'd leave."

Backing his partner against the counter, "Why James, you naughty boy." He attacked his lover's lips, not even caring about the woman behind him. But the gasp sent James into a fit of laughter. "Okay, okay." He turned to the woman that was interrupting his night and pointed his finger in her direction. "Look! You have five minutes to get whatever information you want. After that, I will not be responsible for the animal acts that your eyes will see. Do I make myself clear?"

The first question she sputtered was, "Is-is this some sort of joke?"

He was prepared to make this go as quickly as possible. "No."

"When did it start?"

"Couple weeks ago."

"Are…you…in love?"

"Yes."

"Does…anyone else know?"

"No."

"Is this why you've been actually doing your job at work?"

"Yes."

"Dr. Wilson, will this affect your work?"

"No."

"See that it doesn't." A moment passed before she added, "I'm…very happy for you both."

Only James responded, "Thank you. We're very happy."

To House, she asked, "You're…happy?"

It was only just above a whisper, "When I'm with him…yes."

A slight nod of her head and she turned to leave.

When the door clicked, Greg tuned to James saying, "Finally!" He took the few steps needed to press his body back against his lover, "Now where were we?"

"I believe you were about to take advantage of me for the next 36 or so hours."

"Thank God for that!"


	7. Thirteen

Author's Notes: Okay, so I am SO sorry for the delay! My laptop CRASHED and I JUST got it back today. I hope this isn't poorly written since I typed it up quick so I could post. My brain was going crazy with new ideas! I'm thinking I'll have another chapter up before Christmas! Enjoy!

Thirteen

Monday came, after a weekend filled with the most gratifying sex they'd ever had. House had avoided Cuddy all day, mostly successfully. But Thirteen on the other hand, had been on his ass all day. He'd assigned her menial tasks, just to get her out of his face, each of which she'd accepted without argument. That would have surprised him had he not known she was in search of answers, and details to go along with them.

He ducked into his office as he saw her returning from her last task, _his_ clinic duty. But the glass walls didn't hide him and she wasted no time digging right back in. She flung the door open and flopped down in the chair across from him. "So, are you guys sleeping together yet or just testing the waters?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"So you are dating." It hadn't been a question, but rather a statement.

Tossing his oversized tennis ball into the air, "I never said that."

"Didn't have to. I just asked if you were sleeping together or still testing the waters. Instead of denying any relationship, you just joked about the status of it. That tells me that you are in a relationship. So are you having sex?"

Damn, she'd beat him at his own game. How had he not seen this one coming? He and James had talked forever about what to do about Cuddy. Neither one had even mentioned Thirteen. How had this gone unnoticed? He was loosing his touch in his old age. Frustrated, "Don't we have a patient you can look after?"

"This is more interesting. Besides, there are three other people on our team. There are only so many people needed to do blood tests. So is the sex fantastic?"

Wilson entered the room, replying himself, "What sex?"

Not hiding her line of questioning, "The sex you and House are having."

Having more than enough experience with House to fall for the oldest trick in the book, "Who said we were having sex?"

"No one yet, that's my problem."

Crossing his arms, simultaneously tucking a patient file under his arm, "So it's a problem for you if House and I _aren't _having sex?"

She stood, an attempt to simulate power. "It's a problem for me if House thinks it's okay to tell everyone that I'm bisexual, but is having sex with you and not admitting it."

"So this is about House."

"Yes."

"Good. Then leave me out of it."

House finally spoke. "Well played, Wilson." Then to Thirteen, "Now get the hell outta here."

She sauntered off after a look that said she'd be back and she wasn't giving up. Once she was out of earshot Wilson asked, "How long has that been going on?"

With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the ball onto the table. "All day."

"Wow! Never saw that coming."

"Me neither! How is that possible?"

Ignoring the question posed to him, "What are you gonna do? Doesn't seem like she's gonna give up any time soon."

He rubbed his forehead. "I don't know."

Taking a bottle from his pocket, he shook the pills and set it on the desk in front of House. "Anyway, I stopped by to give you this. I filled it earlier."

With a raised eyebrow, "You filled my Vicodin without my asking?"

"It's been awhile. Thought you needed it. Your stash must be just about gone." The decision to enable Greg had haunted him, wrenched his soul, and tortured him. But he'd finally come to terms with it, deciding it better to have a handle on the situation rather than having his boyfriend scoring drugs from the most convenient source.

Greg's brain was moving so fast, he couldn't figure out what to say. Truthfully, he'd cut back on his pain pills since their relationship had started. No one had noticed; no one but himself. It had been hard enough to admit to himself that everyone else had been more right than he wanted them to know. He truly was an addict. Yes, his leg hurt. His leg hurt more than most human beings could probably bear on a day-to-day basis. But he'd become used to the pain, it was nearly bearable with the normal regimen of pain medication; no overdosing necessary.

The extra pills were to help him forget, forget his miserable, lonely life, his desire for love, and his hidden need for someone to accept him. But now he didn't need to forget. That part of his life was over; and so was his need for the extra pills.

He looked at James across his desk and found himself unable to lie. He had a million sarcastic quips about it 'being about damn time' or that 'damn right he needed them' but no words formed at his mouth. His eyes moved from the amber bottle to the chocolate eyes and suddenly his mind found a retort. "You're an idiot." Any way you looked at it, it fit.

With a roll of his eyes, "I'm gonna need an extra half hour or so tonight. Do you want to wait for me or just head home and I'll catch a cab?"

"I'll wait. If I go home first, you might expect me to make dinner or something crazy like that!"

Holding his hands up, as if surrendering, "I would never!"

Later that evening, House was seated in his office, actually doing his paperwork again, while he waited for Wilson to finish up for the night, when Thirteen sauntered into his office again. After muttering a 'damn' under his breath, "If you aren't here about our patient, you can just turn around and go!"

"Even if I was, I would normally need to call your cell or page you at this time of night. Any particular reason why you're still here?" When he didn't look up from his paperwork, "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that Dr. Wilson is still here, would it?" He still ignored her. "What I don't understand is if you are having sex, and it's not lousy, why would you deny it? I mean, there are a lot of people who hate you _now_ and you don't care. Why would you care if a few more people hate you if they find out you're shacking up with a guy?"

A voice from the doorway finally stopped her endless ramble. "We're not shacking up." Wilson then turned to House, "Ready for dinner?"

Thirteen stood and walked towards him, arms crossed over her stomach, "Hot date?"

"We're best friends. We have dinner all the time."

She smirked at him, "Hot sex afterwards?"

House came from behind her, brushing past her shoulder, not even trying to avoid her, "Wouldn't you like to know?" He nodded to Wilson, who followed right behind him.

They were halfway down the hall before they heard the shout, "I'm gonna find out ya know!"

Once inside the safety of their apartment, James finally said, "You might as well tell her. She's just going to annoy you until you tell her."

"Screw her."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Lucky for you, she just wants me to screw you, and then let her know that I did."

James walked into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves, "What's wrong with that?"

Following him, stopping in the doorway, "Do my ears forsake me? Isn't this the man who didn't want to dance with me a few nights ago?"

Setting food onto the counter, "No, it's the man who was willing to dance with you the other night."

"So that's it?"

"What's it?"

"Now you just don't care who knows? You're just ready for the world to know?"

"Well, maybe not the world, but I'm ready to not sneak around anymore. I'm not saying we need to put it on a bulletin board or anything. I'm just saying…let's stop lying."

"Everybody lies."

"But not about everything."

"True." He walked out of the room, leaving James to tend to dinner while he went to the piano to decompress. With each key, came a note; with each note came a thought.

His life was changing. He was changing. Once, he had been a miserable old miser; a misanthrope. Now, he was still old; his bones, aching muscles and the wrinkles on his forehead told him so. But he was happy. Happiness, a feeling that he'd felt only in sparse amounts over the span of his near fifty years, had now somehow filled the ever-present void in his soul. For some, this was an accomplishment, a reason to celebrate. But for him it evoked an entirely different emotion; fear.

Fear was an emotion he was quite used to. He was afraid that any day might be the last day he was able to walk. He feared that the next time he pushed her, Cuddy would fire him, no matter how many times she said she wouldn't. He was afraid of not being able to figure out the next case. He was afraid that any moment James would walk away and never look back. Of all these things, though, the last was what he feared the most.

Over the past few weeks, he had come to understand that the single most important thing, inanimate or otherwise, in his life was James. He needed him. So every choice he made had to be thought out critically. If he decided that he didn't want anyone else to know about their relationship, James would think he was ashamed of him, which he wasn't. His reason wasn't out of shame, it was to protect the last bit of privacy he still had.

Most people knew details of his life; it was nearly an open book. Everyone knew about Stacy, about his leg, about him being shot, about the Vicodin and his addiction to it. Everyone knew his need for complicated cases and the desire to solve the puzzle. Everyone knew he was the crippled ass of a doctor who pushed the limits of every single thing he did in life. But this, his relationship with James, was his one hidden piece of his life. The one thing he didn't have to share.

He heard the footsteps behind him before he felt the hands on his shoulders. His fingers continued to move over the ivory keys as James asked, "Beautiful; what is it?"

Pushing out a deep breath, "Thoughts."

"About?"

"Sharing."

Most people could not follow the cryptic conversation, but he had years of experience, "And?"

"I like having you all to myself."

"You're not sharing _me._ We're only talking about letting people know that…" His voice trailed, knowing that he only had this one chance to make his point. And then it came to him, as if a light bulb had been switched on. "That I do belong to you. That no one else has any right to any part of me, physically or emotionally. That every ounce of my being belongs solely to you." As much as it was an explanation to convince Greg, the words were like music to his own ears. He did belong to Greg. He wasn't even sure if he possessed even the tiniest bit of himself any more.

As his fingers continued to roam over the keys, he realized he'd never thought of it that way. Maybe sharing wasn't so bad. He stopped playing. "Okay."

Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, "Good. Dinner's just about ready." He was about to step away when Greg's left hand rose to cover his right. No words came, just the gesture. It was all they needed.

Later that night, with James' head on his lap, he ran his fingers thru brown locks of hair while they watched a rerun of CSI on television. "So I take it you're okay with belonging to me."

"Of course I am."

"Good, because there is no way I'm becoming the fourth Mrs. Wilson."

"I can't see you being _Mrs._ anything."

"Of course not. New Jersey only recognizes same-sex civil unions, not marriages."

"Did you…look that up?"

"No." James didn't push any further, and Greg didn't elaborate. Instead, he went back to his original purpose for the conversation. "You know once the word gets around that we will be _the _topic of discussion right?"

"I'm okay with that."

With a devilish grin, "This is gonna be fun."

James rolled his eyes. "Don't make this into a game, Greg. We don't need to make a big deal, just not hide any more."

"Do you have _any _idea who you're talking to?"

He rolled onto his back and looked straight into the eyes of his lover. "Yes, yes I do. And you know what…do whatever you want. Just remember that it takes two to play a game."

"Oo, I love it when you talk dirty!"

With deliberate actions, James moved to straddle Greg's lap, ever careful of his right leg. Looking deep into the blue eyes that were darkening by the moment, he lowered his lips to kiss his partner's waiting pair. His tongue pushed thru welcoming, parting lips before licking and tasting the scruffy skin between Greg's mouth and ear. After a gentle nip at his earlobe, "Would it turn you on if I talked dirty to you, Greg?"

Greg dropped his head onto the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. In a near growl, "Oh, yeah."

His tongue flicked along Greg's ear in between lust-filled words, "So if I told you that I wanted to trace every inch of your body with my tongue, tasting the beads of sweat as they formed on your taught body, that would excite you?" A small moan rose from Greg's throat before he continued, "And if I said that I wanted to draw your cock into my mouth, licking it from base to tip, lapping it with my tongue, tasting the pre-cum as it oozed from your body, that would make you hard?" Greg raised his hips with a mumbled affirmation, pressing his already-forming arousal against his partner's before James continued, "And then if I described your hard, throbbing cock, pressing deep inside me, thrusting, making me writhe underneath you, begging to make me cum, that would make you ache for me?" Not even waiting for a response, "And then if I gave details about you pulsing inside me, engorged, on the brink of explosion, driving into me one last time before you burst in the most satisfying orgasm you ever had, that would-"

Greg interrupted him, not being able to take any more, "Fuck! Bed, now!"

James chuckled as he rose, simultaneously removing his clothes as he headed for their bedroom, Greg on his heels. When they fell onto the bed, James attacked Greg's body with his mouth, but Greg pushed him back onto the bed. "Skip everything else. Straight to me pushing my throbbing cock into your perfect ass." The younger man made a move to roll over, but the older stopped him, "No. I want to look at you."

The moment of intimacy coming from Greg caused an emotional reaction deep inside James' chest. He was silent as he waited while his lover rolled on a condom and lubed his stiff erection. The pain he felt as Greg slid into him was nearly unbearable. But the groan of pleasure he heard was enough to make it all worth it.

Leaning forward, Greg sucked James' bottom lip into his mouth then, "Open your eyes." Deep brown eyes opened to swirling blues, "You okay?"

He couldn't help himself, the emotion being too much to handle, "I love you."

Thrusting into his lover, Greg elicited a moan from both of them before both men exploded in an orgasm near simultaneously.


	8. Everyone Knows

Author's Notes: Okay, so I didn't get this done before Christmas, but consider it a late gift! Next chapter up soon! Please review!

Everyone Knows

The next day, they were seated in the hospital cafeteria and Greg was eating half of James' lunch when Thirteen plopped down into a chair at their table.

Sarcastically, Greg asked, "Can we help you?"

Smugly, "You drove in together."

With a fake shocked gape, Wilson replied, "We also left together last night!"

Adding to the game, "And I'm planning on leaving with you again tonight!"

Completely ignoring the woman that had interrupted their lunch, James stood, "See you later, Greg."

"Yup."

She waited until the younger doctor was out of earshot before saying, "He called you 'Greg'."

"Ooo, you…you've been watching a _lot _of CSI." He wagged his finger in her direction. "There's no getting anything past you!" He stood. But before he walked away, "It's my first name, you idiot!"

She scrambled after him as he limped away. "Right. But no one calls you Greg."

"My mother does. So did Stacey."

"You're using your mother and your ex-girlfriend as leverage?"

"That was kind of a bad example, huh?" He tried to escape onto the elevator, but she followed.

He was thankful that she suspended her line of questioning when another man joined them in the metal box. Both doctors were shocked when the man asked, "Dr. Gregory House?"

With a roll of his eyes, he wondered what yelling match would come next. He didn't recognize the man as a past patient, but that really didn't mean anything since he rarely visited patients. At least this would be a change from the annoying questioning from Thirteen. "Yes. How can I help you?"

The punch that came next must have been well thought out. It connected with a force the knocked House to his knees, his head hitting the wall on the way down. Everything went dark before he hit the floor.

Wilson has just sat down at his desk when the telephone rang. He barely got out his greeting before Cuddy started frantically explaining, "It's House. He's unconscious in the elevator…"

She continued to ramble, but he had already gotten out of his seat and was in a full run on his way to the elevators. He fell to his knees beside Greg, whipping his stethoscope from his neck and yelling at Thirteen. "Go get a gurney!"

Her response was shaky. "They're already on the way."

Greg was twisted on the floor in a helpless lump. James had already tested for a pulse and listened to his heart, but the worry wouldn't leave him. "What the hell happened?"

"There was a guy in the elevator. He asked if he was Dr. House and when he said yes, the guy just slugged him. He hit his head on this rail thing when he fell. The guy ran out when the doors opened."

His anger took over. "You let him get away?"

"Security is putting the hospital on lockdown. I know what he looks like. He won't get away." She was in nears tears defending herself. "I thought it was better if I was here with him getting help rather than running after that lunatic!"

He ran his hand over his face, knowing that he was taking his anger out on the young doctor. "I'm sorry."

She softened instantly. "It's okay. You're worried. You love him."

A crew of doctors arrived with the gurney before he could reply. He jumped out of the way, shouting orders as he did. "Steady pulse. Possible head trauma. He needs a MRI of his head stat."

He had every intention of following the team of doctors and not leave their side until every test had been run and reviewed, but Cuddy stopped him before he entered thru the double doors. "We need to talk."

"What can we possibly need to talk about _right now _that is more important than me being with Greg?"

She understood his reaction, but knew she needed to distract him. If not, Wilson would hover, complaining that every test took too long, and nothing would be good enough. "We got the guy."

He flung his arms out. "So? Throw him in jail! What do I care?"

"Don't you want to know why?"

"I'm sorry. I believe you've confused me with Greg. I don't need to solve the puzzle. I just want to go be with my boyfriend."

He started to turn, but Cuddy stopped him with a hand on his arm. "House would want you to do this."

He blew out a breath, knowing she was right. Feeling somewhat defeated and torn between two directions, he turned back around and nodded to his boss. As he walked, a million thoughts ran thru his head. He was ticking off all the things that medically could be wrong with Greg, all the while praying that he would just wake up and be fine. Then he wondered just what caused this whole ordeal. Sure, Greg had been punched before; several times, in fact. But he'd never lost consciousness. This was a whole new ball game.

By the time they made it to Cuddy's office, his anger was brewing. She stopped him with a hand at his chest before they entered. "Don't make me regret this."

He took a deep breath and nodded before they entered the room. There a man, mid-thirties, baseball cap, jeans and a t-shirt was seated handcuffed in a chair with a police officer at both of his shoulders. One of the officers began to speak immediately. "Stephen Moore. He used these." He held up a plastic Ziploc bag with a set of brass knuckles.

Wilson suppressed the urge to jump the man. "Why did you do this?"

The man refused to talk until one of the officers pushed his shoulder. "He told my wife I was cheating on her. She left me." He was completely calm as he spoke, as if he was talking about the weather rather than the fact he'd just knocked a man unconscious.

With one hand on his hip and another at his forehead, Wilson paced. "And did you?"

"Well, yeah…but she didn't know."

Throwing his arms out, "So he ratted you out and you think it's okay to just come and knock him unconscious?"

"I didn't mean to do that. I just wanted him to know that he can't get away with meddling in people's lives like that."

"You punched him with a set of brass knuckles. What did you think was going to happen? You could've killed him!" He was about to blow. His blood pressure was rising and the temperature felt about 10 degrees warmer than it had when he entered the room. Knowing that he was better off beside Greg than being hauled off to jail himself, "You know what? I don't have time for this." To the police officer, "Is he going to jail?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good." He turned and headed to the ER, and soon found Cuddy at his heels. "What?"

"We still need to talk."

With his voice a little louder than he'd intended, "What? What do you want now?"

In a sympathetic tone, "He's unconscious. You need to calm down so you can make decisions if you need to."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" Not caring who heard, he was in a near yell. "My boyfriend is unconscious and I'm standing here talking to _you _instead of finding out just what the hell is wrong with him. And it doesn't even matter what I find out because even though I love him I have absolutely no say in what gets done!"

She shouted to interrupt his ramble. "Dr. Wilson!" Shocked more than anything, he shut up. "You have every right. You have his medical proxy. Don't you know that?"

His jaw dropped. "I…I have…when…I…" He couldn't form a coherent thought.

"Yes. He turned in the form a couple weeks ago." Trying to lighten the air, "Maybe he's psychic." He rose worried eyes to hers. "Okay. Just…please calm down. He needs you."

With a shake in his voice, "I need him." She nodded before they began walking.

Nearly a half hour later, Wilson was faced with his first decision. The MRI had revealed a subacute subdural hematoma. He could take the chance of the swelling reducing itself over time or authorize the brain surgery to relieve the pressure. Either way he was taking a chance.

Morphing into doctor mode. "Do the surgery. Then start him on corticosteroids for the swelling and phenytoin for possible seizures."

He stood in the room during the surgery, for what he didn't know. He stayed out of the way, clad in scrubs and a surgical mask, his arms wrapped securely around his body as if protecting from any outside force. Although he wouldn't admit it out loud, he was scared. It had taken him all these years to figure out his happiness was held and controlled by Greg. A few months ago, he'd thought that happiness was with Amber; then he'd lost her. The only reason he'd made it thru those hard months of loss, was that he knew Greg was still there. If he lost Greg, there would be nobody. He'd have nothing to hold on to. There'd be no reason to keep going.

Hours later, he was seated beside Greg's bed, holding his hand, silently begging him to wake up. Doctors and nurses had come and gone, making sure he was comfortable. Wilson had added Oxycontin to Greg's regimen, knowing that between the surgery, his leg and the expected headaches, he'd need the pain meds. Although he was stable, Greg had made no move toward waking.

Cameron appeared in the doorway asking, "How's he doing?"

"Same."

"Do you need me to do anything for you? I can go get you a change of clothes or something to eat."

"You mean you're not going to try and convince me to go home and get some rest?"

She took the few steps toward the bed saying, "I prefer not to waste my time if I don't have to." Their eyes met in a knowing look. "Why didn't you tell anybody?"

"Because we weren't ready. Ironically, we decided last night that we were."

"Good thing, because I'm pretty sure everyone's figured it out."

With a chuckle, "Yeah, I guess." Cameron had always been able to make him laugh.

"He's gonna be okay. He's too stubborn. You know that, right?"

For the first time, he let himself cry. "I just need him to wake up. God, Cameron, I love him so much."

She waited while he cried, part of her understanding exactly how he felt. Silently, she pulled a chair beside Wilson and sat. Over the years, everyone had noticed that Wilson and House were close. They were best friends. No one refuted that. But no one understood it either. No one understood why Wilson would hang around to be friends with the misanthropic asshole. Wilson was kind, caring, dedicated; everything House was not. But still, somehow James Wilson had in fact fallen in love with his polar opposite.

As his tears slowed and his breathing evened, he muttered an apology.

Ignoring the unnecessary words, "How long have you been…together?"

Relishing in the distraction and a friendly ear, "Well, I guess that depends on your definition of 'together'. I think I've loved him since Stacy left him. But…officially I guess a couple weeks."

"Does he love you?"

"Yes."

"No hesitation. That's good."

"No. We're in love. I have no doubts about that."

"I don't mean this the way it sounds, but…how do you know?"

He knew what she meant. She wasn't trying to be derogatory. She truly wanted to know how he knew Greg was his one true love. "Because I'm willing to give up everything else as long as I have him in the end. He's the one I always run to for…for everything. I know all of his faults and none of them matter." He paused a moment before, "And I know he loves me because I'm the only one he's opened up to since Stacy. I'm the only one he lets in. And he also told me that I make him happy."

"That's huge."

"I know."

"So, how about food, clothes?"

"Umm…yeah, that would be great. My jeans are in the second drawer from the bottom and any sweatshirt is fine. And…Chinese?" He handed her his keys, holding the apartment key upright.

On her way to the door, "Back in forty-five minutes."

Once she was gone, James kissed the back of Greg's hand that he hadn't let go of since entering the room. Whispering, "Please wake up. I need you."


	9. Commit

Author's notes: So where have all my reviews gone? I know…it's the holiday season…but what better to do with your time than give the gift of a review? 

Commit

It was well into the middle of the night, closer to the next morning and James was stubbornly still seated in a chair beside Greg's bed, albeit a more comfortable chair from the Oncology wing, with his hand firmly entwined with Greg's. Doctors and nurses had ceased their incessant comings and goings when James had insisted he had everything under control and would call when he actually needed someone. Being a respected doctor, the staff had been submissive to his request. He, though, had denied the numerous requests made by Cuddy for him to go home, instead insisting that he stay by Greg's side until he woke up.

Sleep had come in short spurts, his body never relaxing completely, so there was no hesitation in his reaction when Greg's hand twitched in his. He stood immediately, leaning over the bed. "Greg? Can you hear me?" A slight mumble followed, barely audible, but enough to bring tears to James' eyes. "It's okay. Don't try to talk. I'm here."

He watched as Greg dragged himself from his unconscious state. Muscles began twitching and stretching, moans became more audible and his eyes finally fluttered open. A hoarse mumble for water came to which James quickly responded to. After a few weak sips of water the questions came. His voice was still low and a somewhat scratchy. "How long?"

"About twelve hours. Do you remember anything?"

"Being punched."

"Yeah, with brass knuckles."

"Patient?"

"Husband."

"Wife left him?"

"How'd you know?"

"Why else?"

"Good point."

"Stop crying and give me the news."

James wiped his tears. "You had a subacute subdural hematoma. I authorized the surgery. Why didn't you tell me that I'm your medical proxy?"

As if it was nothing, "Who else? Surgery?" His hand went to his head.

He wanted to probe further, but knew that Greg's needs were more important than his own. "Went fine. Minimal shaving. You still look great. I put you on corticosteroids, phenytoin and Oxycontin."

"Oxy?"

"No Tylenol. I knew you'd need pain meds once you woke up."

A smile came across Greg's face. A moment of silence passed as their eyes met. "Who knows?"

James' heart flipped in his chest. He knew exactly what Greg wanted to know, but worried about his reaction. Knowing there was no way he could lie, "Everybody."

"Good, then get in this bed with me. I'm not used to sleeping alone any more."

Greg scooted over while James crawled into the tiny bed. Not caring about the lack of space, he curled up to Greg. "I was so scared."

"Shut up and go to sleep. I'm fine."

"I love you, Greg."

"You too. Go to sleep."

Hours later, Cuddy walked into House's room. "You're awake."

"Sshh. He's still sleeping."

In a whisper, "He's been worried sick. He hasn't left your side."

"He's a fool. He should have gone home and gotten some sleep."

Disbelievingly, "He loves you."

"He's an idiot." A raised eyebrow look was shot his way. "I know."

Satisfied that she wouldn't get any better of an answer, "How are you feeling?"

"Headache, weak, tired. All to be expected."

Trying to sound authoritative, even in a whisper, "You two are taking some time off."

"I don't need any time off."

"Yes, you do."

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by James stirring at Greg's side. When he saw Cuddy standing beside the bed, he made a move to rise, but Greg's hold around his shoulders tightened and Cuddy said, "Don't get up on my account."

A blush rose to James' cheeks. "Good morning."

"Good morning Dr. Wilson. I'm glad you got some sleep. I was just trying to convince Dr. House that you two should take a couple weeks off."

His brain raced. His gut reaction was to say that they definitely needed the time off. But he knew Greg wouldn't approve. Hoping Cuddy would take the hint and Greg wouldn't realize he was giving one, "Are you forcing us to take the time off?"

His latter wish being crushed, "Very subtle."

James rose slightly, this time overcoming Greg's weak attempt to hold him against his chest. "You need to recover. Just take the damn time off."

"Are you my boss now?"

"No." He stuttered. "Yes…I…please."

"Don't be pathetic. It's not one of your best attributes."

Getting frustrated, "I'm not being pathetic. I'm a doctor recommending that you take some time off to recover from a bleed in your brain and from being unconscious for over 12 hours. I'm a man asking his boyfriend to take some time to relax to make sure he doesn't get sicker."

Greg squinted his eyes, "First argument was better."

The room was silent before Cuddy spoke, "When you get back, you can have another week off clinic duty."

Both men turned to her, one out of glee and one of thanks. Pushing his luck, just like he always did, "Two weeks."

Jutting her chin up, "Fine. Just take the time, House."

His smile rose, "You are so easy."

With a glint in her eye, "Not as easy as Dr. Wilson apparently."

Defending himself, "Hey!"

"Oh, quiet down. Being easy is a qualification for dating me."

Rolling his eyes, James pushed himself to his feet, stretching in the process. "Better go get your meds."

"Isn't that what nurses are for?"

"I told them all to stay out last night. I was tired of them coming in and out. I have to go to the bathroom anyway."

Greg nodded before James left the room. "So, when do I get outta here?"

Folding her arms over the file against her chest, "We need another MRI before you go."

"I want to see my file."

"Are you going to press charges?"

Normally, he'd have a quick negative response. But now, his decisions weren't just his own. "I don't think James will let me drop this. You know…he'll make it out to be a near death experience…pain and suffering…yadda yadda."

Turning completely serious, "Tell me you're serious about this."

"Oh, I'm serious. You know how he is."

"That's not what I meant." She paused as he blew out a breath, his eyes rising to the ceiling. "House. He loves you. You should have seen how much he suffered! This better not be a game to you!" He was silent, for a moment too long. A hand rose to her mouth as she gasped. "God! House, no! You'll kill him!"

"Oh, stop!" He ran a frustrated hand over his face. He hated sharing his feelings, especially with Cuddy. But lately it seemed as though his emotions were the hottest topic going. "It's not a game, okay. It's just…confusing. In the past couple months he's gone from my best friend to my enemy to my lover. And now…now I can't even seem to have a thought without him in it. It's terrifying. I wasn't even like this with Stacy."

Relief settled in and her heart calmed to a steady beat. "You love him."

"I loved Stacy."

"You didn't trust Stacy."

He was silent as he pondered her words. She was right. How he hadn't thought of it before, he didn't know, but she was right. He trusted James. He had loved Stacy, but he hadn't trusted her. He had secrets from Stacy, secrets that he didn't keep from James. As if needing to voice his rationalization, "Stacy needed me to change; James doesn't."

"I know. Don't screw this up, House. Take the damn time and figure this out."

He was a highly intelligent diagnostician. He could solve some of the most complex medical puzzles imaginable. But this…love…a relationship…this stumped him. "How?"

She laughed, amazed at just how inept he was sometimes. "What confuses you exactly?"

"You want me to give him my class ring or something?"

"What did you do with Stacy?"

"We dated. We had sex. We moved in together."

"So?"

"We've already done all that!"

"Commit, House."

"Yeah, I'll just run down and buy him a diamond then we'll start planning the wedding."

She shook her head. "You'll figure it out. Just do…something."

Their conversation ended when James walked back in, medicine in hand. Morphing back into her profession, "I'll get you scheduled for an MRI."

He nodded as she walked out of the room then James asked, "What was that about?"

"What?"

"You could cut the tension with a knife."

With a shrug of his shoulders, "PMS."

Later that afternoon, after a clear MRI, he was released to go home. The weakness was near unbearable, so much that he had to ask for help getting dressed. His headache wasn't eased, even with the pain medication, each pound reminding him of a Cuddy's earlier words.

He plopped into the wheelchair without argument, wanting nothing more than to just go home and sleep. On their way out, James steered him to the pharmacy. "I need to get Dr. House's discharge meds. And a refill on his Vicodin."

With the word Vicodin, Greg suddenly realized the next step. "No." After an inquisitive look from both James and the pharmacist, "I…still have a bottle at home." His whole life didn't need to be on display. He'd talk to James later.

But his hesitation didn't go unnoticed. "Did I just hear you turn down Vicodin?"

He looked up to see Cameron standing over him with her arms crossed over her chest. "Head hurts. Making me delusional."

"If I had known all you needed was a brain hemorrhage to make you give up Vicodin, I'd have hit you a long time ago."

"Too bad you were too busy trying to get in my pants."

"If I had known you were into men, I wouldn't have wasted my time."

"Well, after I kissed you, I realized I needed to make a change."

With a smirk, "Glad I could help."

"Might not want to be happy that your lips turned a man gay."

"I prefer to think that I made you see the light."

Interrupting their pretend squabble, "Okay, okay. I think it's time for Greg to get his toys so I can take him home now." Greg flashed a scowl in James' direction. "Now don't argue. It's your nap time." Greg rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Dr. Cameron."


	10. Vicodin

Author's Notes: Thanks for staying with me. A couple more chapters to come. My mind is finally starting to wrap this up! Hope you're enjoying. Please review!

Vicodin

His eyes fluttered open, rousing him from his sleep, bringing him into the room engulfed in darkness. His brain faintly registered the sound of James' deep, even breaths and the heat radiating from the other side of the bed. Glancing at the clock beside his bed, he groaned internally, realizing he'd woken up at three in the morning. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, he rose from bed, careful to not disturb the sleeping man beside him.

But on his way out of the room, he glanced down at the bed and caught a glimpse of the peaceful look on James' face. In all of his near fifty years, he'd never watched a person sleep and found happiness there. With a smile, he headed to the living room and turned on the television. Normally, when he wanted to think, he'd play the piano. But now, like with everything other decision he made, he thought of James and didn't want to risk waking him. Instead, he settled for watching reruns on silent, not really caring what anyone was saying anyway.

Nearly an hour later, into his second episode of 'The L Word', the creek of the bed warned him that James had woken up. The patter of feet was followed by his presence in the living room. His hair was muffed, his eyes squinted and his t-shirt wrinkled. His voice was filled with sleep as he spoke, "You okay?"

He patted the couch beside him, "Yeah."

As he flopped onto the couch, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

He kept his voice at a whisper, "You were tired. You didn't sleep last night."

"I still would've gotten up with you if you couldn't sleep."

"Is there anything you _won't_ do for me?"

Still half asleep, "Uh…"

"Never mind. I know the answer. Which is why I have something I want to tell you." He glanced to his side and saw the panic that was rising in James' eyes. "Calm down. It's not bad." He watched as his lover settled, completely comfortable with the fact that James had moved from being just his best friend to now being his lover. His comfort came with the knowledge that he had, in fact, not lost the first, but had merely gained the second. After a deep breath, "I haven't taken a Vicodin in over 24 hours."

James rose, immediately rambling as he turned in circles, scanning the room, "Do you need me to get your bottle? Why didn't you take one before you went to bed? Are you in pain?"

"Shut up, James. And sit down." He saw the shock in his partner's eyes, this time perching on the coffee table. "I'm taking the Oxy you prescribed me. I'm not in any pain." He was easing his way into his final statement. "I haven't taken a Vicodin because I want to try and quit."

The shock turned to confusion, "Are you okay? Do you need to go back to the hospital?"

He ran a frustrated hand over his face. This obviously wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought. "My head is fine. I'm fine. At least, I think I'm fine." He couldn't help that his eyes kept falling to the floor, avoiding contact with the brown pair that were filled with a mix of confusion and relief. "I really have no idea what happy people feel like. I try to remember back when I was happy, but I can't completely register it." He caught the raised eyebrow look glaring at him, and shook himself back to his original topic. "Look, I'm trying to tell you that I'm ready to quit…for you…for us." Their eyes finally met. With the silence looming, "I have only been taking a regular dose since we started…dating. I haven't even touched the last bottle you gave me." His eyes fell again, "You were right; I was addicted. I didn't need all of it to manage my pain, at least not the pain in my leg. I was using it to manage the pain of my miserable life. But…I'm not miserable any more. Now, with you, I'm happy." A little more emphatically, "I don't need rehab." His voice softened as he took James' hand in is. "I've got you." The silence stretched again. "Say something."

It was no more than a whisper. "Why?"

Normally, the question would have annoyed him. But this time, he understood. "Because…because I'd actually like to be around a while...with a functioning liver." His explanation didn't seem to be enough. Nervously, he rubbed circles into his partner's palm. "I want to grow old with you. I'm serious. Let's go…buy rings…or whatever." He waved a hand in the air. "Okay. I suck at this. I know. But I love you. I just want…"

He was cut of by a finger against his lips. "Seriously?" Greg nodded slightly. "This isn't just because of the whole near death thing?" The moment became deathly serious as Greg shook his head back and forth. James' brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side. "Are you…asking me to…marry you?"

The thought crossed his mind to be a smart ass, which would totally work for him. But then he worried that James needed this moment to matter. His first instinct won out, though, knowing that James would merely want him to be himself. "I am _not _getting down on one knee. And I'm sure as _hell _not going to have some fancy ceremony. What I _do _want, is for you to wear a ring on your finger that matches mine that tells everyone else that you, in fact, belong to me."

A long, silent moment passed between them before James finally spoke his mind. "I'm intrigued by the fact that you are not only willing to give up Vicodin, but also your freedom all in one day. So let's make a deal." Without waiting for a response, "You give up Vicodin. Totally be done with it. Feel good about it. If you're still happy at that point, and you're still ready to commit yourself to me, then I'll put on that ring and tell anyone you want that I eternally belong to you."

Greg stood and rhythmically moved about the apartment, not thrilled with the conditions, but knowing that they meant nothing other than a postponement of a matter of days.

James moved to the couch, fascinated by the turn of events. Of all of the effects he expected to encounter after Greg's attack, this was totally outside his realm of thought. He watched as Greg went into each of his hiding places and withdrew bottles of pills. He disappeared into the bedroom, then the bathroom and even the kitchen, returning to stand in front of the couch holding out a pillowcase filled with partially filled bottles of Vicodin.

James took the package that was being handed to him and stood. "You're serious about this?"

"As a heart attack." Greg took the few steps needed to close the distance between them and cupped James' cheek in his palm. "I can do this."

James raised a hand to grasp Greg's wrist. "I know."

"Take me to bed."

"You need to sleep."

"I need you."

"You're recovering. No strenuous activity."

As he closed the distance between their lips, "Great. You can do all the work."

In between kisses, "I don't…think…that's how…it works."

Trailing his lips up James' jaw line to gently nibble on his earlobe, "Too bad."

Breathlessly, "Greg…no."

"Don't make me beg, James." He continued his perusal of the soft skin, having learned James' weaknesses all too well. With an unnecessary moan, he gently sucked the earlobe into his mouth, reveling in the shudder he felt coming from his partner.

With as much of a warning he could put into his voice with his body completely leaning in the other direction, "Greg!"

The huskiness that James had no power to deny entered his lover's plea, "Make love to me, James. Please. I need you."

Completely lost and under the control of the desire radiating from the body that consumed every ounce of his love, James leaned his head to the side, giving Greg full access to the sensitive skin from his earlobe to his collar bone. His entire body reacted to the tongue that trailed in between hot lips, licking and nipping. The sudden, fierce attack of the hollow point of his neck caused his knees to buckle and he clumsily grabbed for support.

With the need to gain control, he closed the distance between their lips, running his tongue over his own, preparing for the pair that fed his soul. His arms wrapped around Greg's body; one hand losing itself in the curls at the base of his neck and the other dipping into the waistband of the lounge pants that were covering way too much skin. A gentle nudge and they were ever so slightly moving toward the bedroom, lips and tongues still clashing, hands groping.

Clothes were shed quickly before James gently pushed Greg to the mattress with a gentle warning. "Lie still."

Surprisingly, there was no return argument as Greg scooted to prop pillows under his head. As if completely submissive and vulnerable, he was quiet as he watched James perch over him. The desire to reach out to him burned inside him, but he remained still as he was ordered. His whole body tingled when wet lips met the bare skin of his chest. As the trail lead lower and lower on his body, his hands spread on the sheets below him in anticipation. When he felt the tongue flick over the sensitive skin just below his waist, he couldn't stop the hiss as he gasped for a deep breath.

Lips and tongue dancing over him as if claiming each inch as their very own. With his eyes tightly shut, he tried to force himself not to beg, but couldn't stop the moan that escaped him when his lover drew his pulsing arousal into his mouth. With each stroke his head tossed from side to side. Words of passion and desire, all muttered in no order or reason fell from his mouth as his body gave in to his quickly building need for release.

Gathering fistfuls of sheets, he groaned as his body shook with release. With skill no woman could ever learn, James carried him thru the end, reacting to each shudder as it came from Greg's body. As his breathing evened and his body relaxed, Greg pulled his lover toward him and pressed their lips together.

His hands drifted over the naked skin of James' back then down to his waist before James stopped him. "Don't. You need to sleep. I'm fine."

"Oh, stop it. You might get away with the heroic bullshit with women, but I'm a man. And unless you're planning on jumping in an ice cold shower, you are _not _fine."

Although every bit of his mind protested, his body begged for the touch of his lover. With little resistance, Greg pushed him onto his back and simultaneously fused their lips with a kiss and began stroking his arousal with deft fingers. A moan from deep in his throat was echoed by Greg's as he increased the pace, pushing James' already pulsing erection to the near painful level that came just before sweet release.

With a moan of Greg's name, his body shook, spiraling first up then down. Floating, he let himself relish in the moment, never ceasing the endless kissing that seemed to fuel his partner's desire though his skin protested with the burn being created. He pressed his body against Greg's, needing as much contact as possible.

Eventually, their kissing dwindled to Greg tucking James' head underneath his chin and pulled him close. Though Greg had originally protested cuddling, James had discovered that the opposite was in fact true. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he made no snide remark, but rather folded himself into his lover's embrace.

He was nearly asleep when Greg spoke. "Do you really want to find a new place to live?"

He pondered the question, not even sure of his answer, but more concerned about Greg's reaction to either opinion. Staying vague, to measure the response, "I like it here."

Not falling for James' trick, "Not what I asked."

Thought came, surrounded by the mingled sounds of their even breaths and beating hearts. Greg never pushed for an answer, but instead occupied his mind with trailing his fingertips up and down his partner's back. Eventually, James found the truth. "I like the thought of having a space that is _ours_ rather than _yours._ No matter how long I'm here, this place will always belong to you. Although I don't have much, since my entire life is spread between the three households of my three ex-wives, I would like to be surrounded by _our_ things, rather than _your_ things and my clothes in your closet and my books on your shelves. _But_ I'm very comfortable here. Even though your line about memories was bullshit, I really do feel like we have memories here." He hoped his point was made.

"Okay." The simple response was even more of a puzzle than the original question and his next statement caused near mind-blowing shock. "I want to start over…fresh."

Resisting the urge to press back and search the ocean blue eyes for the truth, "You hate change."

Not at all shaken, "Taking into consideration that I've gone from being straight to gay, fallen in love with my best _male _friend, have actually made up clinic hours and have ultimately decided to _give up _Vicodin, I think I'm adapting to change."

There was so much truth to his statement. He had changed. He'd gone from the definition of misanthrope to the polar opposite of a man in love. But still, somehow it wasn't enough. "Why?"

"Why what?"

He swallowed hard, knowing that he had to follow thru with what he'd started, but suddenly regretting his original question. "Why do you want to start…fresh?"

Without hesitation, or even a catch in his voice, "Because there are memories here. For you, they're of us. And although I have memories of us, my memories here are of Stacy." His voice trailed slightly. "I remember the pain, the loneliness, the sleepless nights of endless pacing and silent television, lying on the floor in my own vomit and…missing you."

This time, he did push back and found Greg's eyes with his own. "What about our first kiss? The first time we made love? The first time you told me that you loved me?"

With a devilish grin, "You are such a girl!" A blush rose to James' cheeks, silently agreeing, although he'd never admit it out loud. Greg's gaze softened as a hand came up to run along his partner's cheek. "I will remember all of those things. But I don't need to be here to do it."

"You _really _want to look for a new place?"

"We have two weeks off. We've got to do something."


	11. Real Estate

Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm almost at the wrapping up point. A couple more chapters and that should do it. My fluff will end. I've already got my next project in the works in my head. Planning on writing a fic set after each episode from the very first til now. It won't be a stream of fics, but rather my gut reactions to the Hilson relationship after each ep, without knowing what happens next. Sound interesting? Thoughts? Anyway, enjoy this one! Keep reviewing! Thanks for reading!

Real Estate

Days swept by filled with intermittent apartment hunting, a more than pleasant Greg and a still bewildered James. Greg had stuck to his promise and although the pain had hit him hard a few times, he had not touched a Vicodin since their midnight meeting in their living room. Instead, he'd leaned on James for support, admitted his pain was nearing unbearable and had accepted help. All of these things had nearly left James speechless, but he'd never let himself falter, being the ever-supportive boyfriend. He'd applied heat, gently massaged and had provided necessary distractions.

But even thru the sporadic pain, Greg had insisted they keep each appointment made to search for their new real estate. Their first tour had been uncomfortable. Greg had told the agent over the phone that he was looking for something appropriate for a couple, but had failed to mention that it would be a _same-sex_ couple. On their second visit, their agent had recovered from Greg's incessant mockery during their previous walk-thru, and had even slipped the words 'boyfriend' and 'partner' into their conversation without so much as a pause. But with each apartment came a reason why one man or the other, or sometimes both, didn't think it was the right choice.

Upon entering their sixth choice, James was immediately taken; hardwood floors, a spacious living room, two bedrooms, two baths, a completely remodeled kitchen and a private patio. Greg noticed James' reaction and immediately took him aside. "Is this it?"

"I like it. How far is the from work?"

"About ten miles."

"Not bad."

With a roll of his eyes, "Is this the one?"

"Do you like it?"

"Is…this…the…one?"

Knowing he would never win this battle, "Yes."

Without so much as a moment's pause, Greg turned and with a raised voice, "We'll take it."

Instant panic set in James' chest. They hadn't even talked it thru. "Greg!"

Hobbling toward the realtor, he repeated, "We'll take it."

Going with the good news and trying to avoid the panicked look coming from across the room, "Great! Let's go back to the office and get papers drawn up for the bank."

"No need. We're paying cash."

The realtor was stunned and James nearly choked on his words, "Cash? Greg? What are you talking about?"

To the realtor, "We'll meet you at the office to write up the contract." Then to James, "We'll talk on the way."

Once inside the car, James broke into a ramble. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing? We didn't even discuss this place. Do you even like it? I don't even know. And cash? I don't have that kind of cash, Greg!"

Still calm, "Are you done now?" After a nod, "Good. I like the place. You love it. It's enough for me. And I don't need any more of your money. I have enough of it."

Calmer, but still confused, "What are you talking about?"

"I've been borrowing money from you for over fifteen years. I wasn't doing it because I needed it. I _am _a doctor just like you, you know. I did it to see if you'd keep giving me money even though I never paid you back from any of the previous times. You never let me down. That, paired with all the money you've saved me from buying me at least one meal per day, leaves a very nice lump of cash in my bank account, probably half of which belongs to you." James was still in silent shock as he navigated the car thru the city streets. "When we sell my old place, we'll have quite a nest egg to rely on."

"You don't owe anything on it?"

"Nope. Had it on a ten-year mortgage. Paid it off over five years ago."

"And you said you had no secrets."

"Now I'm fresh out."

"Somehow I doubt that." They were both silent until they stepped up to the doorway of the realtor's office when James yanked Greg towards him and crushed their lips together in a chaste kiss. "Thank you." After a curt nod and a sideways glance, they walked in the door.

Even with the pushing from Greg's increasing impatience, they were still stuck in the office lost in paperwork for over an hour. James' smile grew with each signature, loving the fact that for the first time in his life he was actually purchasing a piece of real estate he wanted instead of submitting to the current wife's choice. Greg, on the other hand, scribbled each signature that got worse and worse, with increased annoyance.

It wasn't until James watched his partner's hand move to his right thigh that he understood Greg's desire to rush. So it was he who finally asked, "Are we almost thru here?"

With a smile from ear to ear, "I know this is a lot of paperwork, but this a serious contract." James raised his eyebrows and she took the hint. "We're almost done with this set, and the next set to put your current apartment up for sale is much smaller."

Without consulting with Greg, "We'll do that another day. Let's just finish this set." He knew Greg had been pushing himself too far. With the change in medication and recovering from brain surgery, normal daily routine would have been too much. But Greg was stubborn and no one could stand in his way. That didn't stop James from worrying, though.

With a determined speed, they signed the rest of the necessary paperwork and left the office as quickly as Greg's leg pain would carry them. Once they were in the car, "How bad is it?"

Wincing, both hands wrapped around his right thigh, "Bad."

It was only then that James noticed the beads of sweat along Greg's brow. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't remember that taking that long the last time."

"That was over fifteen years ago!" He fished in his pocket and pulled out two pills to hand to Greg. "Take these."

"What are they?"

"Just take them."

He glanced down at the pills. "That's Vicodin. No."

"Take them. I can't get you home for almost twenty minutes."

"I'll suffer, just drive!"

"Greg! Just take them!" He swatted at James' hand, the pills flew across the car. "What the hell?"

"I am _not _losing you over a pain!"

Guilt washed over him. He was trying to push Greg to do the one thing that he himself had said would cause him to break the deal. After a muttered apology, he broke every speed limit and traffic law known to man to get Greg home as quickly as possible. He didn't protest when they got home and James insisted upon helping him inside, taking the place of his cane.

Once he got to the couch, James went about the normal routine. First turn on the heating pad, then massaging the pain away until the heat set in. Nearly thirty minutes later, Greg's muscles relaxed and his breathing evened. He wasn't asleep, but the worst part of the pain was over. James watched him, though; legs stretched across his lap, and suddenly realized that his lover wasn't quite as much his opposite as he'd always thought. He was willing to go thru any trial in life, lose anything, suffer the pain, as long as he had James in the end.

In nothing more than a low murmur, "So was that a test?"

He was ashamed. "No. I would never do that." After no response came, he continued to explain. "You were in pain and I felt helpless. I knew that was the quickest way to make you feel better. I don't like to see you in pain."

"And if I had taken it?"

"It wouldn't have changed anything. I'm not going anywhere. Everyone might lie, but everyone does _not _leave."

A long moment of silence passed before Greg muttered, "Go pack. We're moving."

James chuckled, wondering whether Greg would ever truly be comfortable having intimate conversations. "And what boxes would you like me to pack?"

He opened one eye. "Go get some. I'm going to sleep." Eye closing again, he snuggled his head into the cushion and felt James wriggle out from under his legs without argument. He listened to the shuffle around the room, felt the lips pressed against his forehead and heard the door open and shut.

When James returned over an hour later, the jingle of keys woke him up. Still pretending to be asleep, he listened as several trips were made back and forth, the recognizable thump of empty boxes hitting the floor following each swish of the door opening. It wasn't until he heard the final click of the door shutting followed by the rustle of a plastic bag and the plop of a body falling into the chair that Greg finally spoke, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Where'd you get so many boxes?"

"The moving company. I rented the truck too."

He cracked open an eye, "Seriously?"

Matter-of-factly, "For the day after tomorrow."

Still not moving, "You're planning on having this whole place packed up in two days?"

Fumbling with a roll of packing tape, "No, I'm planning on _us _having everything packed in two days."

"I don't pack. Cripple, remember?"

"I'll carry the boxes. You can help pack them."

"You're going to carry _all _the boxes?"

"I hired a moving team with the truck. All we have to do is pack the boxes, label them and stack them. They load them and unload them. Beautiful thing."

"All in one day?"

Looking up from the tape that seemed to be controlled by Satan, "No, I gave them two days. I thought maybe we could get away for a night."

Sitting up from his prone position, "Get away?"

"Yeah…I…uh…called my mom. She wants us to come visit."

"Your whole family hates me."

"They don't hate you. They just…don't understand you like I do."

"I don't do family _things_."

"Greg, I told my mom about us."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because we said we were done hiding."

"From people at work!"

A little aggravated, "So I'm not supposed to tell my mother that I'm happy and finally in love with the person I'm actually going to spend the rest of my life with, not because of a piece of paper from the state saying we have to, but because I actually want to? Is it wrong for me to want them to look at you as the person _in _my life rather than the person who interrupts it?"

With a huff, he gave in. "Fine. We'll go. Get your panties out of a bunch. But don't think that I'm going to tell my family just because you told yours."

"I'd actually rather you didn't. I think your dad might kill me."

"Don't worry about the colonel. I'm sure he'll never hate you as much as he does me."

Dropping the discussion, they both focused on the task at hand. Greg volunteered to tape up boxes, remaining in his seated position, and James began packing up the boxes. The afternoon turned into evening as the packed boxes filled the living room and kitchen.

It wasn't until their pizza arrived that they took their first break. Seated on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, James asked, "So what are we going to do with the extra bedroom?"

"Don't care."

"You have to care."

"No, really I don't."

With a roll of his eyes, "Okay, we'll make it into a nursery."

Greg choked on his beer, nearly spewing it across the room. "Excuse me?"

He tried to hide the chuckle, "You said you didn't care."

"Okay, I care. No nursery." A few moments of silence passed while he wondered whether that was supposed to be some kind of hint. It's not like they ever talked about children. But he assumed it was understood. Two guys didn't have children, right? With a groan, he finally decided to just ask. "Was that…a hint of some sort?"

Trying to put up a calm front, "If it was?"

Panic pounded in Greg's chest. Surely he was joking. With a catch in his voice, "Was it?"

James took a bite of his pizza, pushing off his answer as long as possible, making Greg sweat it out. After a long pull of his beer, "Maybe."

Almost stuttering, "I…didn't realize…you wanted…kids."

"Maybe I do."

A lump rose in his throat. "Ooookaaaayyy…uh…did you have a particular number in mind?"

James turned towards his partner, propping one leg on the couch between them and tilted his head. "Are you actually considering this?" He watched as Greg swallowed hard. His whole body was tense with stress. Giving him a break, he put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Greg, I don't want children. It was just a joke."

His head whipped around, "Why would joke about something like that?"

"It's fun beating you at your own game sometimes. But it was very sweet of you to consider something like that just because you thought it was something I wanted."

His brow furrowed. "I am _not _sweet."

He rose with a chuckle. "Whatever, Greg."


	12. Going Home

Author's notes: Okay, so this chapter is MAJOR fluff!! But I just couldn't help myself. Hope you enjoy!

Going Home

With all the boxes packed, Greg had slightly reluctantly, followed James out the front door to take the trip to his parent's home. Hating car trips, Greg had immediately reclined his seat and drifted to sleep, leaving James to listen to his book on CD, with the background of his sleeping partner's soft snores.

When they finally pulled into the drive, James shook Greg awake. As he rose, "Ugh…I hoped you were going to change your mind."

"Well, we're here now, so let's make the best of it. It's only one night. We can leave right after breakfast if you want."

After a quick glance at his watch, "That should be about…17 hours. Eight hours of sleep, ten if I push it, leaves seven hours of idle chitchat. Great! Let's do this!"

James grabbed their bag from the back seat saying, "I don't need you to pretend to be someone you're not. I just want my parents to see that I'm happy."

Clambering out of the car, he tried to think of how important this was to his partner, but couldn't overcome his hatred for family events of any kind. With a deep breath, he tried to put James' feelings before his own. "Okay. I get it. I'll do my best."

"Thank you." Greg gave his signature curt nod with his eyes averting then followed James to the house. Without knocking, they entered, James yelling, "Mom, Dad, we're here."

A female voice answered, "In the kitchen!"

James dropped their bag at the bottom of the staircase and grabbed Greg's hand, pulling him gently down the hall. Suddenly, Greg felt like a teenage boy again, meeting parents for the first time. James met both of his parents with a hug before making introductions. "Mom, Dad, you remember Greg." Taking Greg's hand in his, "Greg, my parents, Evan and Victoria."

Not much for physical contact, and feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment, Greg nodded with his greeting. "Hello." He had no idea what to say next. What should a man say to his adult boyfriend's parents?

James' mother saved him from making that decision. "Greg, we've heard so much about you. We're so glad you're here."

And again, he was at a loss. He hated small talk. He knew nothing about James' parents other than that they were Jewish, only having met them at James' weddings. He'd only just found out their first names. He went with what any other person would do; he lied. "Happy to be here."

With a huge smile on her face, "Well, Jimmy, I was just finishing up dinner. Why don't you help me in here so your father can go relax? Greg, are you more of a kitchen man or a brandy man?"

Finally a question he could truly answer. "Definitely more of a brandy man." James squeezed his partner's hand before walking toward his mother rolling up his sleeves.

Silently, Greg followed Evan into a large living room with a fireplace and watched as he poured two glasses of amber liquid and handed him one glass while motioning for him to take a seat. Suddenly he started to think he should have been a kitchen man.

He was shocked by the words that came out of Evan's mouth. "This is very rare for us, to have Jimmy bring someone home. He never brought any girlfriend home, ever. His first wife, whom I hated by the way, we met at the wedding. Bonnie we met at the rehearsal dinner. Julie was the only one we met ahead of time. She came for a barbeque; but only that once before the wedding."

There was no question at the end, just an opening for Greg to say something, explain himself. In all his life, he'd never felt as completely lost as he had in the last ten minutes. He took a gulp of the brandy in his glass, letting it burn his throat on the way down, hoping it would give him the nerve he needed. He'd never done this before.

"I love your son. He loves me. I know that sounds cliché, but it's the truth. We've been best friends for fifteen years. He knows I'm an ass and he's okay with it." He paused, waiting to see if that was enough. When there was no response, he continued. "Two men, doctors, who could get a woman if they wanted, don't choose to be gay after over forty years of life just for the heck of it. They do it because it's real and they can't ignore it anymore." He took another swig of brandy. "I'm not screwing with him. Well, not in the sense that would bother you." He looked up to see the slight amusement in the other man's eyes, giving him the strength to go on. "I've never been married. I've only ever had two real relationships in my life. One was a woman; a long time ago. We were together for five years. The other is with your son. I'm not going anywhere."

Finally, Evan spoke. "Good to know. So are you two getting married?"

Relaxing, Greg leaned back in his chair, tilting his head with a curious look on his face. "You're really okay with this?"

"Vicky and I are very open-minded. If Jimmy's happy, then so are we."

"He's happy."

"We know. He's told us."

"Good. Then this will be a lot easier than I thought." He cleared his throat. "New Jersey doesn't recognize same-sex marriages, but it does recognize civil unions."

"And?"

He chuckled, loving the fact that he wasn't going to get off easy. "I'm asking for your permission to give your son a ring."

After a sip from his glass, "I have three sons. I went my whole life knowing that I had absolutely no say in who my sons married. And now here I sit, getting to actually decide."

Attempting sarcasm, "And you've met me four times!"

It was a moment before Evan's chuckle followed and Greg allowed himself to join in. As the moment faded, the tone of the conversation turned serious yet again. "Are you Jewish?"

"No. I'm…not really religious at all."

"Are you dying?"

"No quicker than you."

A pause followed while Evan emptied his glass with one last swallow. "Don't hurt my son."

"I won't."

He studied Greg for a few silent moments before finally saying, "You're a very lucky man."

"I know."

"Will there be a ceremony?"

Scrunching his face, "I'm…not really a ceremony kind of guy."

"I can live with that."

He waited a moment before asking, "So…we're good then?"

"Yes, we're good."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me until he says yes."

As if the timing were perfect, James walked into the room. "Dinner's ready. You guys ready?" With a smirk, Evan rose and walked out of the room first. "What was that about?"

"We had a nice chat."

"Seriously? You…chatted?"

"In…a matter of speaking, yes."

"What did you talk about?"

"You." Without giving him any time to respond, he followed the direction Evan had gone.

Dinner was delicious. Obviously James had acquired his cooking skills from his mother. James kept the conversation going with his parents, leaving Greg to only need to interject a handful of times. They talked about work, their new apartment and James' family. When dinner was over, Greg helped clear the table as much as his cane would allow him before they all went into the living room.

Not at all shy about their affection, James took a place close to Greg's side on the sofa, while his parents took the two chairs. With his arm across the back of the sofa behind James' shoulders, he listened as the conversation continued about the family, James seemingly catching up on all the gossip. Instead of his normal discomfort in family situations, he was actually quite content seated beside his partner listening to the banter.

As the night drew to an end, James having snuggled closer and closer to his side, Greg decided he couldn't procrastinate any longer. "Before we head to bed, I have something I need to say." He shifted and dug into his pocket, feeling James tense beside him. Holding the black velvet box in his hand, "We both know I suck at this. I'm not lovey dovey. I don't have a paragraph of quotes or a list of reasons. I can't do the bended knee thing. I just have this." He placed the box on James' knee. Heat rose to his face, partly from expressing any emotion in front of anyone but James and partly because it hadn't been long since James had told him to wait. But he pressed on. "I love you. You make me happy."

With shaking hands, James picked up the box and glanced across the room to his parents before opening it. In all his life, he never expected to be given a ring. But even beyond that, he never expected Greg to do this in front of his parents. Glancing again at his father, he noticed the knowing look in his eyes. "Did you know?"

With a nod, "He asked earlier."

Completely shocked, he turned to Greg. "You asked my father?"

"I figured one father hating me was enough. Besides, if he would have disapproved then I would've been forced to listen to your complaining for the rest of my life because you have to go to Chanukah dinner alone."

"I've been asking you to come here for dinner for years and you've never come."

"Yeah, but now we're a couple. I have to do…couplish…things."

"So you're gonna come to dinner with me now?"

"You haven't said yes…yet."

"Oh cut the crap! You know I'm gonna say yes."

"Then I'm coming to dinner." He turned to Evan. "Thanks."

"You're more than welcome."

Victoria finally spoke. "Well, let's see the ring, Jimmy!"

He was just about to open the box when he turned to Greg again. "Wait! When did you get this?"

"Not this." Greg dug in his pocket and pulled out the other box containing the matching ring. "These." He wriggled the box in between two fingers. "I ordered them from a catalog the day you went to get boxes. I picked them up yesterday when I went to pick up my refills. Now, are you going to open it or not?"

Inside the box, was a gold band lined with diamonds. It was brilliant. Just as he was about to slip it on his finger, Greg told him to read the inscription. Inside, was the name, 'James House'. Without pause, Greg handed James his own ring. The inscription read, 'Greg Wilson'.

Without caring about his parents being in the room, James leaned over and kissed Greg on the lips. When he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you."

With an eye roll in their direction, "Not in front of the parental beings."

James chuckled and slid the ring he still held onto Greg's finger before handing him the one that should go on his own. Greg raised an eyebrow, but got the point when James held out his hand. As he slipped the ring onto his lover's finger, he felt the pang in his chest. This was it. This was how people felt on their wedding day. It was only then that he understood the inclination.

"Your mother is dying over there. Go show her the ring already!"

All four of them rose. James went to his mother and Greg shook Evan's hand. James moved to hug his father and Greg felt just a tinge of jealousy. A few minutes of congratulations followed before James took Greg's hand and led him upstairs.

Later, lying in bed next to each other in the guest room Greg caught James looking at his left hand. "You _have _worn a ring before."

"This time it's different. I've always bought my rings myself. This is the first time anyone's bought me any piece of jewelry, let alone a ring."

"You like it?"

"I love it. I still can't believe you asked my dad."

"I like him. Got a good sense of humor."

"What did he say?"

"He told me not to hurt you. And he told me I was lucky."

"I think I'm the lucky one."

With a snort, "I think you're the crazy one."

Ignoring his last statement, "So can we sign some sort of official paper, or are we okay with just the rings?"

"I…have no idea. I'm fine either way. You know paperwork is meaningless to me. You have my medical proxy, we own real estate together and you're the sole beneficiary of my life insurance and in my will. I think that pretty much covers everything, unless you want to combine checking accounts."

"Wait. I'm the sole beneficiary in your will? That takes a visit to a lawyer. When did you have time for that?"

"It doesn't take a lawyer if I didn't need to change it."

He was stunned. "How long?"

"Since Stacy left."

"Seriously?"

"You're my best friend; my only friend. You have been for fifteen years. That's never changed; still won't."

"You're a lot better at this relationship thing than you think you are."

"Only because it's with you." James rose an eyebrow and Greg continued. "You don't need me to change. You don't have any expectations of me. You're okay with me being me."

Quickly, as if wanting to say it before he changed his mind, "I want to sign papers."

Stretching his word, "Ooookaaayyy."

There was no spoken question, but he heard the unspoken one. "I want to make sure you have to put up a fight to get rid of me."

"I didn't leave the first time."

He felt like he'd been punched in the chest. "I…I deserved that."

Greg ran his hand over his face. "No you didn't." With a sideways glance at his partner, he saw the hurt in James' eyes. "I'm sorry. I just meant that I'm not going anywhere." Another short silence followed before he added, "I told you I suck at this."

James rolled further onto his side and ran his hand along Greg's unshaven cheek. "No you don't. You're blatantly honest; you never hide what you want to say. If I didn't love that quality about you, I couldn't love _you. _ Besides, one of has to pick fights so we can have make-up sex."

A devilish grin came over Greg's face. "You minx!"

"A quality you can appreciate."

"You better believe it." Their lips met in the briefest of kisses before James snuggled into his usual position in the crook of Greg's arm, his head resting between his partner's chest and shoulder, an arm possessively thrown across his chest. As Greg ran fingers thru the soft brown locks of his lover's hair, peace washed over him. "We can stay as long as you want tomorrow." With James, he was home; it didn't matter where they were.


	13. Epilogue

Author's Notes: Okay, so I couldn't resist this part! I had to add it in. Hope everybody liked it. One final review for old times sake…please?

Epilogue

As James pulled the car into Greg's spot in the hospital lot, he asked, "Are you ready for this?"

With a smirk, "Better question is 'are _you _ready for this?' I missed the whole part where everyone figured us out. Now I get to have fun!"

James rolled his eyes. "Just don't get either one of us fired okay?"

Faking offense, "Me?"

Getting out of the car, James tried to bring sense to their actions, "First thing is to head to HR to hand in our paperwork."

"Goodie. And the fun begins!"

They had decided to sign paperwork, making their union legal in the state of New Jersey. James remembered the feeling of completeness that washed over him as he'd signed his name on the line. He hadn't felt as good at any of his three weddings. This time, his life was complete; everything was right. Finally he belonged to Greg, and Greg belonged to him. No one could deny their relationship.

With his backpack slung across his shoulder, Greg hobbled off faster than he'd ever moved before, leaving James to jog to catch up with him. They managed to make it thru the lobby without Greg making a scene, but that soon faded when they reached the Human Resources office.

With his voice louder than necessary, "Excuse me. My husband and I need to put our union papers in our files." James flushed as he ran a hand over his face, partly because of the present moment and partly because he knew that this was just the beginning. The stunned look on the secretary's face didn't stop Greg from adding, "We also need to change our address because we just bought an apartment together."

Twenty minutes later, James felt the relief from behind him as they left HR and made their way back to the elevator. When Greg pushed the button for the lobby floor, James raised an eyebrow. With evil amusement on his face Greg asked, "What? We _have _to keep Cuddy informed. She must know all hospital business!"

"And what business are we informing her of?"

"We're _married!_ Hello?"

"And that qualifies as hospital _business_?"

With a fling of his hand, "Business, gossip, same thing." The bell dinged and the doors wooshed open before Greg practically sauntered, as much as his cane would allow, into the lobby. James' head was still shaking back and forth as he followed Greg into Cuddy's office. "Dr. Cuddy! My isn't that blouse…oh, sorry…highly inappropriate for a married man to make such a comment." Her jaw dropped slightly as Greg turned to James saying, "Sorry Dear."

Sarcastically, "I'll try to get over it."

Cuddy rose from her chair and walked around her desk asking, "Married?"

"You said to commit."

Still shocked, "You never listen to me!"

"Because you've never been right before. This time you were. Congratulations!"

Turning to James, she asked, "Is he for real?"

Holding up his left hand, as if to prove his point by flashing the golden band, "He bought the rings himself. We signed legal union papers last week."

She walked over and jerked at his hand, yanking it close to her face. "I can't believe it!"

Greg walked over and brushed her hands away, "Believe it. And get your hands off my man!"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Congratulations House. It's about time." Then to the younger doctor, "Don't let him abuse you Dr. Wilson. Congratulations." The friendly moment passed as she returned to the chair behind her desk saying, "This will not interfere in your work. You will receive no special privileges because you're…married. If you want vacation together, you need to ask for it well in advance since I will be down two department heads in your absence." Then specifically to Greg, "And you will _not _embarrass patients with your sexuality."

"We'll be sure to lock the office door if we decide to have sex in James' office." She glared at him from across the room. "Okay, okay. You can watch if you want!" With that, he turned and left, without waiting for a response. James muttered an apology before following his partner out the door.

Once on the elevator James asked, "So, are we done now, or is your team on your torture list too?"

A spark lit in his eyes. "We can't leave them out!" When the elevator came to a stop at their floor, "Come on, walk me to my office." With a wink, he grabbed James' hand and pulled him along beside him.

Still hand in hand, Greg walked into his private office, glancing thru the glass to see his team seated at the table in 'their' part of the office. He dropped his bag on his desk then sat on the corner, yanking James toward him. Just above a whisper, "This is so much fun!"

Keeping his voice hushed, "So what's the plan? Am I supposed to stand here while you ravish me?"

"Really didn't have it all worked out in my head, but that could work."

An idea sparked in his own mind, feeling just a little bit evil. "If I make this good, can we consider this torture session over and go back to just being us?"

A smile spread across his face, "What do you have in mind?"

Greg saw the movement to his right, his team straining to see what was going on and reveled in the wicked plan that was unfolding. Caught slightly off guard, momentarily focused on his team, his cane clattered to the floor as he grabbed for support from James' arms as his partner's lips attacked his. Just as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss though, it was abruptly ended.

With a yank, James pulled him to his feet and nodded toward the door. He reached down for his cane, but the jerk at his arm prevented his movement. He watched as James shook his head before pulling him toward the door. His limp was exaggerated as he followed without his normal support, but the sinful look in his lover's eyes made him not even care.

Doctors, nurses and patients passed by, watching the affair that was unfolding in front of them. As they passed the glass walls of his office, the four pair of eyes from his team followed them down the hall. Greg willingly followed James into his office, and loved the last effect of being forced against the wall still within everyone's sites just before James pushed the door shut.

"Mmm. That was good! I'm brushing off on you!" James tilted his head to the side, in silent agreement. "So now what? Do I stay in here for twenty minutes creating the illusion that we're having a hot make-out session then go back to my office with my hair a muss and my breathing rapid?"

James shrugged slightly. "That, or," he took a step closer, dropping his briefcase to the floor before pressing one leg in between his partners, "we could _actually_ make out and then your hair would really be mussed and your breathing rapid."

"God, I knew there were more reasons why I love you."


End file.
